Brothers in Arms
by TheMidnightOwl
Summary: Castiel re-encounters his brother, Lucifer, after his inheritance of Sam's crippled state. This time, however, the Devil's charm may actually be working on his desperate mind, and he makes the mistake of listening. Rated M for future chapters, eventual Lucifer/Castiel.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Castiel had always marveled at hospitals. He had watched them grow from the shanties of faith healers and ancient acupuncture to small civilizations within grand buildings, the humans' understanding of the ways of his Father almost threatening to undo His will and His plan. He had watched their knowledge of illnesses of the mind go from thinking them the work of the Devil or possessions to the true nature of their need for help. He was thankful that he had taken on Sam Winchester's instability during a time of obsession with curing mental illness. He knew he wasn't sick – actually, he felt better than he had before taking on Sam's burdens – but the humans saw him as such, not knowing any better, and gave him asylum where the Winchesters couldn't.

He did not hate the Winchesters for leaving him at the hospital. He had heard their conversation as they left after that night, and he agreed with them. They could not afford to watch him every second of every day, nor did he want them to have to. He had considered himself their guardian for the longest time, and he had failed him; he did not think anything they could do now would protect him from what would be coming for him. The fact was they could not protect him, but within these walls he was safe. And the demon Meg was determined to keep him all to herself for her own safety. He did not mind her using him; he was using her, too. She was strong, she was smart, and she was determined to have an angel up her sleeve.

He enjoyed the time allotted to him to spend outside, especially on days as gorgeous as this. Despite his distance from Heaven, he felt closest to God on these warm, sunny days, watching the bees go about their simple existence in silent fascination and almost envy. Such obedient little soldiers, pollenating flowers and producing honey for their queen, never questioning, never objecting, never rebelling, never needing anything else. Their individual and free thought, if they had any, said to follow their instincts and the commands of their queen. Sometimes it made him sad. Most of the time, though, it helped him feel closer to his Father again.

Sam's insanity translated as a freedom of mind for him. At first it was paralyzing, the hallucinations of his fallen brother, the visions and sensations of Hell all around him, he thought the weight of it all would kill him. But when the fog cleared, and he could breathe again, he discovered the taste of the air, the sweet relief of oxygen breathing life forms find every day. He could form his own thoughts and not be crushed by guilt or regret for thinking them. He was free. And freedom and insanity were equals in the mind of angels. On occasion one of those hallucinations bled through, and he would hear his trapped brothers' voices or see the fires of Hell, but they passed quickly once he found something else to focus on. With his mind suddenly able to focus on whatever he willed it to so easily, that was hardly difficult.

_"Castiel,"_ called the voice of his older brother. He ignored it and focused on the bees making their way from flower to flower in no particular order. It was a rare occasion that he had more than one hallucination on the same day now, but this was the second time today he heard Lucifer calling his name. He had thought back to the fate of his brothers more and more now that his only company was the bees and his thoughts, and the demon Meg when she was in a talkative mood. Despite knowing it was for the greater good, that it had saved humanity and his friends, he still felt a sense of tragedy at watching Michael and Lucifer plummet in to the fallen's cage in the depths of Hell, likely for all of eternity. There was no way to rescue Michael without risking springing Lucifer as well. Part of Sam's memories from Hell included Lucifer raving in frustration about the plans he had for God after he eradicated the "sickness" of mankind while he mercilessly tortured Sam's soul. He did not want those plans to come to light.

Castiel had stopped denying to himself that he had missed Lucifer, now that his mind was clear and unfiltered. Nearly every angel secretly missed Heaven's most cherished archangel, though none of them would admit it anymore. Lucifer's beauty had been the very essence of the multidimensional realm, and the lower angels like him had often mused that Lucifer must be more beautiful than God. None of them had ever seen their Father, and could not imagine anyone more beautiful than Lucifer. And when Lucifer had been cast in to the pit, Heaven seemed less luminescent, less beautiful, and less whole. He was the embodiment of perfection, and if they could lose him to corruption, they could lose anything.

They had met once or twice when Castiel was younger. Lucifer hadn't remembered, but Castiel had. The older had given him much wisdom and shown him useful fighting tips. To this day he still thought to those words when fighting or following through with an order, even after meeting Dean and Sam. Yes, Castiel had missed his brother, but his brother had never really come back. The Lucifer that he knew died at some point in the pit. What emerged with his same wings was a tainted, twisted echo of that former beauty.

He wished the voice would leave him alone. Not because he feared or hated his brother, but because the false voice tugged at his heart. It was the voice of the vessel he had used before Sam consented; Nick was the name Sam's memory offered for the poor lost soul. But it made sense why Sam's tormented psyche would hear that voice and not the liquid mercury of Lucifer's true vocals. That was the only voice Sam had ever known the Devil to have, minus his own talking to him through a mirror.

Lucifer had not been kind to the human; that much was apparent. After their meeting in Detroit, when Sam allowed the Devil entrance, Lucifer had killed Nick and snuffed out his soul. An angel could tell by touching the corpse of the deceased whether they had gained passage to Heaven or been condemned to Hell; when Castiel had touched Nick, he felt nothing, only a cold, empty shell. It was the most horrifying experience of his 4,000 years.

Sam's memories had proven very useful in answering some of his questions about Lucifer's actions, and perhaps made his condition more tolerable. His condition was only borrowed; therefore the memories would not be personalized. In a weird sense, it was a part of Sam's mind existing within his own. The most tortured part, nonetheless, but he did not mind. He deserved it after all he had done: dealing with demons, being so naïve as to accidentally free the Leviathans from their eternal damnation, having the audacity to challenge God's decision to lock them away. Sam Winchester had only ever strived for good and peace; he had not deserved the torture he received for his sacrifices. Castiel took them it in full because he knew he deserved no better.

But here, in the hospital, under the care of the humans and the watchful eye of Meg, perhaps he could work towards redeeming himself. In this state he was not completely free of the guilt, just dissociated from it. So perhaps he could work towards a useful state of being while no longer needing to carry that around with him. He liked the idea of it, though not so much the idea of getting involved with conflicts anymore. But that was Sam and Dean's lifestyle, and he did not want to lose his friends. Hopefully eventually he would stop being so sensitive to the idea of having to fight again. Until then he would help them in whatever ways he could without having to smite anything.

Meg tapped his shoulder to get his attention. She had assumed the role of his overseeing nurse, and did not allow most of the other orderlies to see to him. She took responsibility for him in all forms, from bringing him his meals and medications to chaperoning him throughout the hospital and its grounds. "Hospital's shutting its doors for the night," she said with slight condescension in her tone. She always sounded like that. "Time to head in." He nodded solemnly, never too thrilled to have to leave his careful observation of the bees. He said a silent goodbye to the busy insects, and then they were in his room.

"I can't figure you out, Cas," she says as he stares out the window, "you want to appear as human and insane as the rest of these drooling morons, and yet you refuse to use your legs. You're gonna get noticed one of these days. Maybe not by one of the other patients – who would believe them? – But by someone. And all it takes is one person rambling about their day for a demon or something worse to find out we're harboring an angel here."

He did not respond, only watched the sun glinting through the leaves as it gradually set. He did wish to remain human in the eyes of the hospital staff, but impatience and force of habit had him electing to fly instead of walk. And he knew she was only mocking him. Between the two of them, nothing would be hurting him. He was still an angel, still powerful enough to eliminate any threat to himself or to her. He did what he wanted, and avoided what he didn't. He didn't want to walk. So he didn't walk.

Night fell quickly. He hadn't moved from his spot leaning against the windowsill and watching the change of light since he had come inside. Once the moon was high in the sky, he opted to lie down and observe from a less harsh angle. He still didn't sleep. Ever since he had woken up from the coma induced by shifting Sam's trauma into himself, he had been awake every moment. He could go anywhere he chose during lights out; locked doors meant nothing to him. But he didn't. He stayed in his room and watched the stars through his window. It was relaxing, and helped him to think. He liked thinking. The orders of his superiors had been his psyche for his entire existence. Now his mind was whatever he chose it to be. He thought a lot. He thought about everything. Some humans drove themselves mad over-thinking. He was already mad, so he supposed he had nothing to worry about. He welcomed the feeling that insight and knowledge gave him.

Tonight was different though. He wasn't thinking about the routine of the bees or the patterns within the fibers of plants. He was thinking about his brothers again, and about Sam and Dean. He was thinking about all they had done together, throwing out the rule book and altering God's plan. He was thinking about his first encounter with Lucifer in nearly 3,500 years. How his brother had asked him to join him, and he refused without a second thought. Heaven's obedient soldier, who had prepared for that meeting since the first seal was broken. Had he truly been as convicted as he thought he was? He wasn't sure anymore. He would say no again in a heartbeat, but lately he had been wondering just how sure he had been of his answer at the time. So full of doubt was the young, freshly fallen angel. Saying yes to Lucifer would have meant regaining the command he craved, but it would have also meant the death of the only beings that had stood with him. They later stood against him, but he understood why now. Dean was right, and he should have listened.

For the first time, his brain hurt. So many conflicting thoughts and actions, so many regrets and poor decisions, but what else was an angel who had been given the gift of free thought to do, when he hadn't been taught how to use it? He had only done what he thought to be right, which is exactly what Dean had told him to do. Defeating Raphael was the only way to ensure that the path they had set for the Earth would remain on course. He needed to be stronger if he wished to beat Raphael. Dean had objected to his method without even trying to understand why or suggest a better solution. He had received contradicting orders from the one whom he modeled his behavior after.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Dean was not to blame for his actions. He was.

He needed some air.

[xxx]

He didn't like that those memories were becoming painful again. He enjoyed being able to look back on them free from the raw emotion they had formerly stirred in him. It allowed him to reflect and learn from his mistakes without feeling so horrible. It appeared they intended to haunt him and pull at his heart for the rest of his immortal life.

The New England forest he currently strode through was alive with the sounds of the night. This time he had elected to walk part of the way to his destination. He had observed the act of walking help many humans in clearing their heads from troubling thoughts, so he decided he would try it. It was helping a little. He used to come to this forest often during his days stationed on Earth. It was his job to observe humanity without interfering, and report back when convenient. He obeyed wholeheartedly, and was very good at picking up the little details the others in his garrison frequently overlooked. But every now and again he found himself bored of humanity's repetitive nature, and would retreat to a clearing on top of a mountain in the forests of what was now called New Hampshire to observe the other creations of his Father.

The full moon overhead illuminated the shining surface of the familiar river as Castiel entered the clearing, memories of simpler times filling his mind. He sat on a rock hanging over the rushing water and stared in to the distance, where the moonlight licked the tops of the trees of the neighboring mountains. Crickets chirped all around him, singing their song to anyone who cared to listen. He loved to listen. The air was cool and the sound of crickets mixed with the babbling river, falling to rocks below a few meters to his right, effectively cleared his mind of the overwhelming emotions that he had unintentionally subjected himself to in his hospital room. Here he felt close to his Maker once again, safe and cared for.

"God doesn't care about you, Castiel," came the voice of his brother. This was different, this was too real, and it sounded like it came from behind him. He turned and opened his eyes wide at the sight in front of him: Lucifer, back in the body of the human he had tortured so unjustly to get to Sam. When he blinked they were no longer in the forest, but the building where they had first encountered each other during the apocalypse. Lucifer had him pinned against the wall, right forearm pressed in to his neck, left hand holding his wrist against the cold brick.

"In fact I don't think he ever really did," he continued, voice smooth and authoritative. There was no harshness or mock in his tone, just his usual satiny charm. "I don't think he cares what the angels do to themselves, if they stand together as brothers in arms or slaughter each other by the dozen. As long as he's entertained by his little toys, he lets them do as they please." He looked Castiel dead in the eye, voice becoming impossibly soft. "Me, I have always cared about my brothers, always loved them. And always fought for the respect we deserve."

"This isn't real," Castiel said, trying to ignore his brother's existence.

"No?" Lucifer released Castiel's wrist to hold up an archangel's blade. He rested the silver blade against Castiel's cheek. "If I stabbed you with this, do you think it'd hurt? Is the fear you feel real? Does the Grace beneath this meat suit feel real? Am I just your imagination, Castiel? You know the difference between those hallucinations and reality."

"How would you know of them if you weren't one of them," Castiel shot back.

Lucifer smiled. "They were just the result of a few screws knocked loose in Sam's noggin. But an angel is connected to their vessel. When he got out of Hell I was a little disappointed – I liked knowing that at least we were there together. So when he got out I kept some tabs on him, watched him. And imagine my surprise when I saw you, dear brother, take all that away from him. I've got to admit, I'm impressed at just how much you're willing to sacrifice for those cockroaches."

Castiel looked the devil over. Yes, he recognized the difference now between a hallucination and reality. This felt pretty real. "How are you here?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"The careful and concise manipulation of some suicidal teenager in a small town," he answered, not trying to hide the smile in his voice. "Promise someone you'll save them from the disease that won't stop nagging them and they'll do anything you ask. She was very compliant for a very small price. I almost wish I could have kept her."

"What did you do to her," Castiel growled.

"It doesn't matter, she was just a pawn. I know you've always been so keen on the little details but try to see that there's a bigger picture here. Heaven's a mess. The Earth's a mess. I'm going to fix it. And I could really use your help, brother."

"I will never join you," Castiel spat, "I thought you would have learned that the last time we were here."

Lucifer clenched his jaw and shifted his weight, then shocked Castiel by releasing him and backing away. "The last time we were here, circumstances were different. You were in full-fledged rebellion mode, but had already chosen the side of the humans. There is no getting through to an angel so attached to a cause; that I learned from Michael many eons ago. But now you're avoiding conflict. You've let the weight of your mistakes crush and defeat you, Castiel. Everything's a mess, but none of it is your fault. You have only ever tried to do what you thought was right. That's the reason you rebelled, that's the reason you stood up to Raphael, that's the reason you feel the need to redeem yourself in the eyes of your little pet. Our interests are still the same. I want Heaven to be free of corruption, and the Earth to be cleansed. And I know you do too."

"I am nothing like you," Castiel growled.

"Aren't you?" Lucifer's formally soft eyes glinted with mischief. "Our Father had it written that the apocalypse would one day happen. He prepared you all for what roles you would play come Judgment Day, got you ready for how to handle my return. It was God's plan. But you couldn't go through with it. You knew it was wrong, and you begged your brothers to listen to you. But they tried to kill you, didn't they? So you stood alone and fell for what you knew was right." He took a step closer. "Tell me, dear brother; any of that sound familiar?"

A heavy silence hung in the air as they studied each other. Castiel refused to look him in the eye, but had also remained pressed against the wall, as if finding some comfort in the unrelenting brick. He was impossibly still, his thoughts stopping him from even breathing. He had questions he feared the answers to, had doubts stirred by the devil's convincing words, which he had tried not to even listen to. He felt so exposed. Were his walls coming down?

The Morningstar watched his younger brother with fascination. He saw the silent thoughts stirring behind the impossible sapphire eyes of his vessel. The storm in the younger angel's mind was very clearly debilitating in its severity, and he tried not to make any sudden movements in fear of snapping his composure. He had had his demons keep tabs on the Winchesters and their favorite angel, and one consistency throughout their reports was Castiel's unpredictable nature when he became emotional. Especially now with his mental state so fragile, he was careful not to push him too hard. He approached the younger slowly, only taking another step when he was certain it would not frighten the angel that had pinned himself to the wall.

Castiel started when he felt Lucifer's hand taking his wrist, not in threat or show of power, but almost compassionately, as if to ground him. Their eyes met, and Castiel suddenly felt so small under the gaze of Heaven's most beautiful child. "It's been a while since you've felt like yourself, hasn't it, Castiel?" Lucifer asked soothingly. "I'm guessing it's been years since you've even looked at your wings. You're an angel, brother, you should not be living the way you are, in a run down, filthy hospital for the lowest of God's flawed creations." Lucifer's free hand found Cas's shoulder, resting gently on the loose trench coat. "You're an angel of Heaven, and one of the few who has ever dared stand up for what they believe. That makes you more beautiful than any of those zombie-minded soldiers." He leaned in close to Castiel, who was now trembling from his incredulous state. "Show me your true beauty, Castiel."

Lucifer pulled him away from the wall so it would not hurt his wings when they manifested. Cas had not even commanded they do so; they appeared at the request of the devil, still holding his wrist and shoulder with a feather-light touch. The midnight wings spread to their full span, stretching the tendons to flay the feathers in a desperate manner. Lucifer eyed them in awe and admiration. Black wings were not common, not even in higher ranking angels. Most had wing colors spanning from dusty sand to a chestnut brown, much like a hawk's. Castiel's wings were simply stunning, the pitch black feathers, tipped a nighttime blue at the ends, larger than his vessel's body and so much more impressive. Finally, the appendages relaxed and Castiel folded them against his back. Slowly, so as not to alarm him, Lucifer released his shoulder to stroke the onyx feathers, his touch uncharacteristically calming. The fingers of his right hand remained wrapped slackly around Castiel's wrist.

How long had it been since someone had touched his wings? Thousands of years, at least. Without realizing, Castiel laid his head against the crook of the Morningstar's shoulder, encouraging the touch. The last time he could remember anyone stroking his wing with any sort of compassion was with Balthazar, when they were both very young. Castiel had failed a training exercise, and Balthazar had laid a hand on his wing in a show of encouragement and friendship. Castiel had killed him nearly a year ago. The memory stung.

"I didn't know Balthazar was dead," Lucifer mused softly.

"I killed him," Castiel said monotonously, "he was my best friend, and I murdered him." Lucifer rested his chin on his brother's head, whom he could feel was fighting tears. He increased the area of his strokes. "I'm worse than you, aren't I?"

"No such thing," Lucifer smiled. "You made a few bad calls. So did I immediately after rebelling. You spent your whole life taking orders, following the commands of others, and suddenly you had to make your own decisions. Of course you were going to mess up a few times."

"Have you seen what I've done?"

"Of course, what else is there to do in the pit besides watch the chaos unfold up above? So you released a race of ancient monsters, big deal. If the Winchesters won't let you live that down, don't let them live down starting the freaking apocalypse."

"They're only human," Castiel tensed, "I'm an angel. I should know better."

"Yes, you are an angel," Lucifer squeezed Castiel's wing, "you're also free. Is this what you want to do with your freedom? Rot away in some human hospital in some pinprick on a map? Or do you want to redeem yourself and return your grace to its former shine? What's the point of breaking free of those bonds if you're not going to do something with it anymore?"

Castiel lifted his head to look the devil in the eye. "What do you propose I do?"

Lucifer smiled inwardly. It worked; he was listening, even asking for direction. He hadn't expected that to come so quickly. "I'm not going to tell you how to utilize your freedom, Castiel, that's not the point of freedom. But if I may make a suggestion, try attacking your guilt head on instead of trying to avoid it." Castiel looked confused. He couldn't help but giggle at the angel's inability to understand speaking in tongues. "Whatever's causing all of those conflicting emotions, take care of it so they stop."

Lowering his gaze, Castiel returned his head to its place against the Morningstar's shoulder. He could feel his brother's Grace burning hot under the thin membrane of his vessel, and wanted so desperately to use it to fix himself. But of course, an angel fully exposing their Grace was more dangerous than a human exposing their soul. That much raw energy could blow a hole in the universe, and a Grace had no defenses; a prick from a pin could severely wound it.

"We've missed you, Lucifer," Castiel whispered without thinking.

"I've missed you all, too." Suddenly Cas felt a Heavenly warmth washing over his human form, then seep through the thin skin and in to his essence, rushing up to his head before settling. He inhaled sharply at how much _better_ he felt. He had thought taking on Sam's insanity had felt good, but that was only in comparison to how horrible he had felt for the past two years. Now he realized how low a definition of "good" that had been. He felt renewed, like his Grace had found a new spark. He gripped Lucifer's shirt for balance as the shock of it nearly forced him to his knees.

"There, that should get you back on your feet," Lucifer cooed warmly, placing a feather-light kiss to the younger's hair.

"What did you –"

"You wanted me to heal you, right?" Lucifer lifted Castiel's chin so he could look him in the eye. "You only needed to ask."

Castiel was grateful, and relieved. His mind was clearer than ever and he felt a new sense of conviction to fix what he broke and get the Leviathan back where they belonged. But he was instantly skeptical of the Devil's intentions. "If you think this will make me indebted to you –"

"I am capable of kindness," the devil shot down immediately, volume rising only slightly, "I was kind to you when we met in Heaven, wasn't I?" Castiel's eyes widened. He did remember him. "Consider it a gift in reminiscing of simpler times."

And then Lucifer was gone, leaving Castiel alone in the dank building where twice he had re-encountered his older brother. So many thoughts rushing through his head, so many things he knew he needed to do, and so many wrongs he had to right on his part and the Winchesters'. He only hoped Heaven would stop trying to kill him long enough to allow him to fix what he had broken.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments or constructive criticism. A simple "hey nice job" can go a long way. Thank you so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The ride to the hospital had taken them almost a week. Meg had called them the second Castiel had awoken, but they had been on the opposite end of the country, and ran in to some trouble on the way. Dean had been wired the entire ride after he had called Meg again and demanded to talk to Cas. When he left him in the psych ward, convincing himself it was for his own good, whatever was going on inside his head had crippled him, prevented him from saying or doing anything except screaming until he finally passed out. Hearing him talk was relieving, but everything he said made Dean want to shoot something. His mind was so far down the rabbit hole he had barely even recognized him. And, just like everything that happened to the angel, he found a way to blame himself for it.

"We race all the way here and now, I don't know, I can't say I'm fired up to see what's left of the guy," Dean huffed as they made their way through the hospital. First Sam as a resident here and now Cas, Dean hated this place. It sent chills up his spine.

"You think he remembers at all?" Sam asked.

Dean breathed. "That and I'm guessing whatever hell-baggage he lifted off of your plate. It's not gonna be pretty. I mean you should have heard him on the phone. He may have been talking but he wasn't saying anything sensible. Him taking on your cage-match scars, I'm guessing that broke his bank."

"I just hope we can help him," Sam sighed, a tang of guilt tightening his throat as he spoke.

"Hell, I hope he's got enough sanity left to help _us,_" Dean said.

"Hey, excuse me fellas, but it's way past visiting hours," a young attending nurse stopped them. Sam recognized him from his stay. He saw Meg come around the corner before she announced herself.

"It's okay, Abel," she called him off, arms crossed and weight balanced on her left leg. Sam couldn't remember how long he had stayed in this eerie building, everything had been off; he hadn't even bothered to learn the man's name. "I've been expecting them." She eyed them both with a sense of importance. "Hello boys." Cocking her eyebrows, she nodded towards the stairwell and led them up to Castiel's room. The same room Sam had stayed in.

They both attempted to hide their nerves as they approached the familiar door. Dean had his tensed, serious look that Sam recognized as him bracing himself for something painful. He chose to bury his emotions under a hunter's intensity, something that fooled everyone but his brother. Sam was more outwardly uncomfortable, the pallid white of the walls bringing back haunting memories of unbearable insomnia, physical agony, and Lucifer, peeling away the layers of his mind until all it was raw and throbbing behind his lost, sunken eyes.

Castiel stood by his window, watching the moon like he did every night now. He had felt the Winchesters' presence since they had entered the town, smelled that familiar scent of gunpowder and musky deodorant since they pushed through the hospital doors. Their heart rates were elevated, each for a different reason. He wondered how many questions Dean would ask him about his sudden return to sanity and how quickly. Their talk on the phone, he recalled, was likely less than relieving for the elder Winchester. Dean called his name impatiently, and he picked up on the note of worry he was trying to hide. Not sure how this meeting would go, he turned around to face them for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"Hello Dean," he greeted in his usual manner, holding eye contact and smiling fractionally. Dean held his gaze, and Castiel could see how many thoughts and emotions were rushing around in his head, threatening to shatter his composure. He elevated the temperature in the room to a more comfortable seventy-five degrees; the cost of oil had the hospital reserving it for daytime A/C use only, and the night was particularly chilly for the summer. He turned his gaze to Sam, but kept his body facing Dean. "Sam."

"Hey Castiel," Sam greeted warmly, genuinely pleased to see him doing so well, knowing all too well the other option for his condition.

"Well, look at you, walkin' and talkin," Dean chirped, always the one to lighten the mood. It was a defense mechanism, especially in precarious situations like this. It brought a smile to Castiel's face. Dean smiled back reservedly. "That's great, right?"

"Yes, it is," Cas looked fleetingly to Meg, never entirely sure of what to say. She was leaning against the door frame, watching in idle fascination as they reunited. He locked eyes with the older of the brothers again.

"How you feelin'? I mean," Dean fumbled over his words, trying to get it to sound right the first time, "you were in pretty bad shape. Everything settled?"

"Yes, all of that has passed," Cas assured him.

"Passed?" Sam shifted his weight. "Cas, what do you remember, exactly?"

"Everything," Cas recapped all of his actions from the past two years, from working with Crowley to attempting to become God to releasing the Leviathans and taking on Sam's burden, all with detached resolve. Lucifer had helped him accept his mistakes. Now he was focusing on correcting them instead of continuing to allow them to cripple him.

"Okay just hang on, Cas, let us catch up to you for a second," Dean crossed the room to sit on the bed, stunned at how clearly Cas had just spoken.

Sam pulled up the chair from the desk and sat in it backwards, eyes fixed on the angel. "So, you're saying you remember who you are – _what _you are – and you're... okay? After taking on all of my crap?"

"Yes," Castiel looked to Dean, most concerned about his reaction. Dean was frozen, processing all of his thoughts, and likely going over Castiel's words from their phone call while they drove to come see him. Dean finally shook his head.

"Your head was _gone, _man," his tone was almost harsh, "when we talked on the phone you weren't 'okay,' you were going on about bees and cats' junk and something about a pinging sound waking you up. You were so out in left field I'm pretty sure you were in the stands."

"Well I wasn't in any field, I assure you, but a chime-like sound did awaken me," Cas kept his voice level, "and from your pause after I told you that I'm guessing something happened that night."

Sam reached behind him and grabbed his duffel bag off the desk, holding it out to Castiel. "That's when we opened this," he explained.

Cas's eyes lit up. "Yes, that would do it," he lifted the stone tablet gingerly from the bag, "every angel would have heard this being freed." He smiled down at the stone. "If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the Earth, it would end up being you two."

"The Word?" Sam asked, "Is that what's written on there?"

"Yes. This is the handwriting of Metatron," he noted idly.

_"Metatron?" _sam echoed mockingly, "you're saying a Transformer wrote that?"

"That's Megatron," Dean mumbled in correction.

"What?" Sam looked at him accusingly.

"The transformer," Dean repeated, "it's Megatron.

Sam stopped. "…_What?"_

"Me-ta-tron," Castiel clarified, "he's an angel, he's the Scribe of God; he took down dictation when creation was being formed.

"Uh," Sam tried to push Dean's knowledge in to the back of his mind for later mocking purposes, "well, what's it say then?"

"I don't know, I can't read it," Castiel admitted, "It wasn't meant for angels."

"Okay, this sounds bad," Meg piped up from behind them, "what are you two jackasses doing with the Word of God?" She crossed the room. "Let me see that thing."

Dean stepped in front of her. "Back off, Meg."

"C'mon, it's my ass too," she argued.

"Back. Off," he said again.

"Dammit, enough of this 'demons are second-class citizens, crap," she shouted.

"Can we focus?" Castiel brought them back, and handed the tablet to Meg in a peace offering. "The Word wasn't meant for angels, and Metatron has been dead for eons, but there are still those who can read it. The prophets. If this has awoken, a prophet will be called to the desert to learn the Word of God."

"A prophet? So Chuck can read this?" Sam asked, pointing to the stone being examined by Meg.

"Yes, as long as you get to him before the angels. If they find him and you they will confiscate them both and send Chuck to the desert, where he will remain until the Word is learned."

"Alright, well, guess we better get a move on," Dean clapped his hands together. "You good to give us a lift?"

A familiar chill ran up the length of Castiel's spine. "It's late," he noted, "You two look tired from your trip. Why don't you get some rest and I will take you to him in the morning." Dean eyed him skeptically. "Isn't that one of those human things you always insist on being allotted?" He asked innocently in response to Dean's narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, sounds good. I spotted a motel not too far from here. Come get us in the morning," Dean's tone sounded nonchalant, but his eyes had remained fixed on the angel's, voice heavy with cynicism. Castiel only nodded, and followed them with his eyes as Meg walked out with them.

He turned his gaze to the moon again, trying to ignore the chill that just ran up his spine again. He knew what it meant. He knew who was trying to get in contact with him. He wouldn't budge. Whatever influence his brother had had on him before, he would not allow it to happen again. Lucifer had helped him, and he was grateful, but he was still weary of the devil's intentions.

_"Castiel,"_ the Morningstar beckoned. So he expected him to come on his own accord? That would not happen. Besides, it wasn't as if he knew where to find him. No, he watched the moon as he had for many nights now, letting himself be lost in its luminescent beauty.

He followed the sound of Lucifer's voice before he even processed his flight.

[xxx]

"Your wonderment at the moon is no surprise," Lucifer mused conversationally when Castiel appeared next to him. Castiel's head snapped to his right to stare at his brother, whose gaze was fixed on the orb in the sky. "Ever wonder why you've felt so drawn to it since you woke up?"

Castiel remained silent, just returned his gaze to the full moon overhead. Lucifer let the silence between them hang for a moment more before he looked down to his brother's eyes, wandering the surface of the sphere. "It reminds you of me."

Castiel scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not," the devil smirked in spite of himself, "you're attracted to how bright it is, shining so intensely and standing out from the stars around it. It feels so cold, but it's a good kind of cold, not one you're uncomfortable with." Castiel met his gaze. "Sound familiar?"

The younger angel said nothing, just searched his brother's eyes for a bit. "What do you want?" He asked finally.

"Just to talk," Lucifer started circling his brother, much as he had during their first encounter two years ago. It drew Castiel's attention to their location: a small clearing in the woods somewhere in the state of Washington. "Our last conversation went so well, I thought maybe we could pick up where we left off, try and build on it. It's been so long since I've had a brother."

"You lost that right when you rebelled," Castiel growled.

"Then that means you have too," Lucifer pointed out calmly, "if we've both got no one, we may as well have no one together."

"I have the Winchesters," Castiel snapped with pride, "You have your demons."

Lucifer leaned in closer, not breaking the rhythm of his strides, "Demons are foul. I can't stand the lot of them. And the Winchesters, their species aside, are temporary. Human lives are so fleeting, Castiel; they're gone with the blink of an eye. And with the Winchesters' lifestyles, they could be gone tomorrow."

"And then back again in two days," Cas interjected with a bit of a smile.

Lucifer couldn't help but laugh. "That's very true. Death can't seem to keep a solid hold on those two. Though last time we chatted he found them entertaining enough to let it slide. If Death wants to keep someone, not even God can resurrect them. I think he finds their lives amusing."

Cas just narrowed his eyes, trying to read his brother through the small talk. "How did you reclaim your old vessel?" he questioned. "You didn't just kill him, you ended him. How can you have that body back?"

"Like you said, I ended him," Lucifer answered, "this body is just an empty shell now, ready to be inhabited by anyone who picks it up. It's not perfect, I still have to be careful, but I made it stronger, able to hold me better. I assumed trying to get back in to Sam Winchester would be a waste of time, and not the best way to try and talk to you."

"You didn't have to snuff him out like that," Castiel hissed. "He was an angel's vessel. Even someone subjected to you is promised entry in to Heaven."

Lucifer stopped. "Heaven was a mess, even before your smiting parade. All that human wanted was to see his wife and daughter again. Do you know what happened to them, Castiel? God's 'plan' was to have them murdered in their sleep. They were in Heaven. He wouldn't see them there. Not really. I was in his head for a long time. He was suicidal. And after I reminded him that it was God who did that to them, he wanted nothing to do with Heaven. So I gave him what he wanted. I made sure he didn't go to God's corrupt kingdom."

He hadn't intended to hurt Castiel with his words. But he had visibly shied at his rather insensitive mention of his slaughter up in Heaven. Maybe everything else was passed him, but it was in their nature to mourn the loss of a brother or sister. Not only had thousands been murdered in Heaven at once, but it was by Castiel's hand. He would likely never recover from that.

Lucifer sighed. "Maybe it wasn't the best thing I've ever done. But we all make poor decisions." Castiel tensed. "Why are you still fighting me, brother?"

"Words are your predominate weapon of choice," Castiel pointed out, "and you haven't stopped talking."

"Words are also a method of communication," Lucifer reasoned, "a way of trying to connect with another being or strengthen a bond that already exists."

"We have no existing bond," Castiel sneered.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Lucifer began pacing again, a smirk spreading across his lips. "An angel doesn't let just anyone so close to his wings when they're so vulnerable." Castiel's gaze dropped. "You trust me. I'd say that's some sort of bond."

"You were manipulating me," Cas denied.

"I was helping you," Lucifer stopped in front of the younger and tilted his chin up, locking eyes with the stubborn angel. "And you're looking much better, I might add."

"And I appreciate your assistance," Castiel jerked away, "but it was unnecessary. I am capable of handling myself." Castiel began walking away.

"I don't doubt it," Lucifer said honestly, "what I do doubt is your conviction. You keep telling yourself that you no longer need your brothers, that you're okay with losing them and losing Heaven because it's worth it for the Winchesters. But I can see right through you Castiel. You miss the feeling of a shared grace."

Castiel froze in his tracks before disappearing, taking himself to the Winchesters' motel room and watching over them like he used to in secret, closing the blinds so the moonlight could not touch him. He did not want to feel its soothing essence tonight.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments/constructive criticism. A simple "hey nice job can go a long way. Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Castiel never had to take the Winchesters to Chuck. His succeeding prophet, instead, found them. Castiel did not mention to them that only one prophet could exist at a time, and therefore Chuck must be dead. They did not need to hear that another friend had died when they had just gotten one back. So he left it out. The angels, of course, quickly found the new prophet, and thus the tablet. Dean thought quickly on his feet when they arrived and banished them, but the sigil banished Castiel as well.

"How considerate of him," Lucifer chortled sarcastically, "he gets rid of the threat but also gets rid of his greatest asset. He kind of treats you like shit, you know that?"

"It was necessary," Castiel defended his friend, "Hester and Anais are strong and on a mission. They will take the prophet to the desert by any means, even if that means killing the Winchesters. I am not angry at Dean for the collateral. I'll be back to them shortly."

"You seem to be their collateral quite often," Lucifer pointed out. "If you ask me they're using you."

"I didn't ask you," Castiel snapped coldly. Lucifer just raised his hands in peace, pushing himself away from the wall he had been leaning against.

"Alright, fine, I get it." He stood next to his younger brother, who was watching the dogs on the track the banishing sigil had landed him at. "I'm not trying to stir up anything between you and the Winchesters."

"Lying doesn't suit you, Lucifer," Castiel said, aware of the irony in the statement.

The devil laughed. "There's an interesting fact. Alright fine, maybe I'm not so fond of your relationship with the little hairless apes. But I do admire your loyalty, Castiel. It's a pretty rare quality nowadays, even in angels. No matter what they do to you, you always go back them, are always there for them, and refuse to give up on them, despite their mistakes and flaws. That's something that needs to exist in more places. Perhaps I'm just jealous."

Castiel couldn't believe the words the devil had just spoken. "…what did you just say?"

"Maybe I'm jealous of the loyalty you have for the Winchesters," Lucifer repeated shamelessly. "Maybe I miss having someone think of me as their brother." Castiel was speechless. Lucifer laughed an airy laugh. "I know, difficult to believe, isn't it? The fallen angel, the disappointment of the heavens, has feelings."

"That's not what I'm having trouble believing," Castiel disagreed, "I'm having trouble believing that the angel who loathes humanity more than anything is jealous of two of them."

"Well, who wouldn't be jealous of the beings that you hold in such high affection," Lucifer's voice had dropped to a whisper in Castiel's ear. It caused him to shudder. The Morningstar turned his attention to the sky. "You should be good to go back to them," he noted, "they're on highway 94 north of Saint Cloud, Minnesota. They just passed mile marker 79."

Castiel turned to look at his brother, who, for once, did not attempt to meet his gaze, only continued to stare at the large, fluffy clouds overhead. Australia did always have nice skies. It had been a while since either of them had been to this part of the world. Part of him wanted to stay with the older archangel. He fled the moment he had the thought.

[xxx]

The four of them worked hastily to angel-proof Rufus' cabin. Castiel felt heavy remorse as he painted the familiar windows, knowing that he was indirectly responsible for the death of the Winchesters' father figure, Bobby, who was close friends with the former owner of this cabin. He would give anything to give them back their friend. He would give everything to undo his rash actions after killing Raphael. But what was done was done, and all he could do about it now was try to redeem himself in Dean's eyes and fix what he broke. For now, that required hiding the prophet Kevin so he could read the Leviathan tablet. They were all betting on it describing a method of killing the ancient beasts.

Dean remained with the prophet down in the basement while he translated the centuries old stone, leaving him, Sam, and Meg upstairs to essentially do nothing. He sat and admired a glass deer, wondering why Rufus owned something so uncharacteristically charming. Sam sat down near him, letting out an uncomfortable sigh. Cas recognized that as a human way of saying they wanted to discuss something but were unsure of how to begin.

"You seem troubled," Cas helped him along.

"Okay, uhm," Sam angled his body to face Castiel, hands falling between his knees as he leaned forward, "right now I'm just wondering about you."

"What about me?" Cas asked, confused. He was fine now. There shouldn't have been anything to worry about.

"I think I was done for," Sam explained, "when I was… sick." He paused sharply. "…Do you see Lucifer?"

He realized he would have to word this very carefully if he did not want to alarm Sam. He was strong, like his brother, but he could also be very paranoid, and he did not want them shifting their attention from the Leviathans to the mysteriously freed devil. "I did at first," Castiel decided on. It wasn't a lie. "But that was… it was a projection of yours, sort of an aftertaste. Then for a while I more sort of saw… well, everything, and as the days dragged on it just sort of dissipated."

"Dissipated how?" Sam questioned.

Cas forced a weak smile. "It's funny, I was – I was done for, too, even before taking on your pain. It's strange to think about, but it actually sort of helped. And when it settled, when the storm calmed and the fog lifted, I stayed okay, despite all that I did, all the lives and souls lost to my mistakes. I'm okay. And I'm happy that you're okay, too."

Sam smiled, relieved. "I guess I'm just wondering how it just faded away for you."

Castiel shrugged. "I'm not human, nor was I in the cage at all. Perhaps it had nothing to fuel it and it died. Angels don't have complex psyches like humans; we border on narrow-minded, actually. I guess it just didn't have anything to keep it going when it was within me."

"Well, that's good," Sam visibly lit up now, and patted Castiel's thigh. "Listen, I know you never did anything but try to help. I realize that, Cas, and I'm grateful. We're all grateful."

Sam had no idea how much he had needed to hear that. "Even Dean?"

"Dean doesn't know how to say thanks," Sam chuckled, "but I know he knows you were just doing the best with what you had. Just like us."

_"Lying doesn't suit you either, Castiel,"_ he heard the voice of his brother in the back of his mind. How was he still managing to communicate with him like this? His insanity had been healed and he had turned his angel radio off so Hester and Anais could not find them. How was Lucifer still in his head? _"How long until Dean notices something?"_

_Please, Lucifer, not now, _he begged, just needing some time with the friends he felt indebted to.

_"You're not indebted to them, Castiel, _came Lucifer's voice in response to his thoughts, _"Just know that. You don't serve anyone. You never served them, and you no longer serve Heaven."_

_Just leave me alone, _Castiel growled in his mind, attempting to keep an undisturbed countenance for Sam.

_"Our next chat can wait a little longer,"_ Lucifer decided, _"but I will be seeing you again. Until then, I'd like to point out that your little demon friend is no longer in the room with you."_

He wasn't lying. At some point during his and Sam's conversation, Meg had slipped away. He only hoped they wouldn't regret losing track of her. Sam followed his eyes to where Meg had formerly been standing.

"Where's Meg?" He wondered aloud.

"I'm not sure," Cas said. He saw the concern on Sam's face as he got up and grabbed some chalk. "What are you doing?"

"Meg has a tendency to screw you over if it means keeping herself alive," he explained as he drew the Devil's trap in front of the door, "so if she thinks she's lost the protection of an angel I can only imagine where she'll go to better herself. You're not sick anymore, so you don't need her. She's probably off making friends with a few demons that want to kill us."

"You think she would do that?" Castiel asked.

_"She's a demon, brother; I wouldn't put it past her,"_ Lucifer commentated.

"She's a demon, I wouldn't put it past her," Sam almost seemed to echo the devil's words. He brushed the chalk dust off his hands as he stood up, completed Devil's trap waiting for Meg if she ever returned. "I'm gonna go see if Kevin's made any process translating the stone."

With Sam gone downstairs, Castiel was yet again alone with his thoughts. He could feel that chill washing over him again. "I'm not done here, Lucifer," he mumbled in to the air, "the Winchesters are still trying to evade my old garrison. I leave them alone for a minute and they could be killed." Another chill ran up his spine. He tried his own form of manipulation. "I'd never forgive you if they died while I was away." The chill stopped halfway up his spine, numbing one of his vertebrae, before dissipating. He awaited some sort of sarcastic remark from his brother, much like Dean would do after being shot down, but nothing came. He felt nothing, not even that acute presence he always seemed to feel. What he thought of Lucifer mattered to him. Interesting. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but it could be potential leverage if his brother's intentions proved bad.

Meg ended up returning, and was met with Dean's ever-cynical interrogation. She of course defended herself, and her story of only intending to get a few demons off their trail was strengthened by the demon blood on the knife she had stolen. So, with a clenched jaw, Sam let her out of the trap, but he could tell how uneasy the brothers were. He didn't blame them. But they would have bigger problems as soon as Hester followed the beacon left by Meg stabbing those demons back to the cabin.

The door of the cabin was ripped off its hinges, and Meg was expelled from the room. A flutter of wings brought Hester, Anais, and a few others from Castiel's former garrison in to the room. "You took the prophet from us?" Hester was furious. Castiel took a few steps towards her, singling himself out from the Winchesters. If she was going to attack any of them, it was going to be him. "You have fallen in every way imaginable," she sneered at him in disgust.

"Please, Castiel," Anais tried being diplomatic, "we have to follow the code. Help us do our work." He offered Anais an apologetic fleeting glance, then turned back to Hester.

"The prophet is staying with me," Castiel challenged.

Hester glared at him. "We don't need his help, or his permission." She nodded to Anais, who disappeared quickly to retrieve Kevin. "The Keeper goes to the desert tonight," she declared coldly.

"He's staying right here," Castiel's fists clenched and relaxed. "This is my mess. The Leviathan are here because of me. That tablet will tell me how to fix what I broke, how to put them back where they belong. I am doing this with the Winchesters. And I need him for that."

"Yeah," Dean backed him up, "We're actually trying to clean up one of your angel's messes. Just give us some time, okay? We will take care of your prophet."

She visibly tensed, becoming wrought with anger. "Why should _we _give _you_ anything?" Her anger was fixated on Dean now; Cas fought the urge to attack. "After everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell he was lost!" Dean was silent, and Cas could see him beating himself up in his mind. He didn't like that. She advanced Dean. "For that, you're going to pay."

His knife slid down his sleeve an in to his hand. With one quick leap, he tackled Hester to the ground, away from Dean. Her knife was in her hand in an instant as she tried to fight him off. She attempted to roll him off of her, stabbing at him, but he was stronger, and his vessel larger. He subdued her quickly, sitting on her legs so she could not kick and wrestled the blade out of her hand, pinning her wrists above her head. "There are so few of us left, sister," he pleaded, "do not make me hurt you."

She screamed at him, still fighting to get the upper hand. One of the other angels with them, Peter, jumped to her aid and knocked Castiel off. He spun to his feet, prepared to fight the both of them. Peter lunged, and he evaded him quickly; he saw no use in harming an angel that was not armed. Hester swung her fist at him, hitting his jaw, but he paid no mind to it. When she swung again, he grabbed her clenched fingers, spun the both of them to dodge Peter's next attack, and knocked her against the wall. He threw the knife he had taken from her in to Peter's leg to stop his advances, then held his own up to her throat. "Please, sister," he begged. "Enough."

"It will never end," she hissed at him, "Heaven can never be at peace now. You took everything from us. And it's all their fault. You want the prophet? You'll have to kill me."

"You call me fallen," he pressed her harder against the wall as she continued to struggle, "you call me mad. But look at yourself, Hester. You were so beautiful. Now your Grace is weakened. Look what you've become."

"Look what you made me," she spat. He felt her emerging from her vessel, a last ditch effort to get away. Her leaving the vessel would blind and kill the Winchesters, and she knew it. Pain in his eyes, he forced his blade through her chest before she could leave. Her eyes and mouth opened in shock, and she screamed in agony before falling to the floor, the release of all the energy of her Grace leaving burns on the ground where her wings had been. Sighing, he looked to his brothers, staring at her empty vessel in mourning.

"I am sorry, Peter," he apologized for his brother's injured leg, "but you must go. The prophet is in my care, and I will look out for him." He helped Peter to his feet, and Anais crossed the room to hold him up.

"I'll take him back to Heaven," Anais promised, nodding towards the others in the room. He looked at Castiel longingly. I wish you'd come with us, though. These are strange times, Cas. We could really use you."

He smiled at his brother. Anais was younger than he, and had always looked up to him. It was reliving that even after all he had done, the little one had not given up on him. "I'm not part of the garrison anymore, Anais. I'm sorry. But you'll be fine. Better off, actually."

Anais returned his older brother's smile, and as the others brought Kevin home, he disappeared with Peter, both of them looking towards the sun rising through the dirty windows. Castiel walked towards Sam and Dean, who were both looking at Kevin's translation of the tablet. Meg was gone again, but that was fine. She was likely laying low.

"Here," Sam cut in, pointing to the notebook with the pencil, "'Leviathan cannot be slain, but by a bone of a righteous mortal, washed in the three bloods of the fallen.'" The brothers exchanged looks before Sam continued to read. "Um… it says we need to start with the blood of a fallen angel." They both looked at him now. He smiled.

"Well, you know me," he held up an empty glass vile and wrapped his fingers tightly around it, "always happy to bleed for the Winchesters." When he unwrapped his fingers to hand it to Dean, it was filled with his blood.

Dean examined it and sighed. "So, this is it? We're back to hunting and bleeding together, like nothing happened?" he asked skeptically.

Castiel shrugged. "Of course something happened. And I don't want us to forget. I don't think I ever will forget. But I'd like to someday receive your forgiveness, if that's okay. And I'm gonna start by cleaning up the mess I've made." That presence was back again. No chills like the Devil was calling to him, more like his hand on his wing again, assuring him that he was there and standing with him. He was not opposed to it.

Dean's countenance held concern and questions. Of course he had questions, when did he not, but the concern puzzled Cas. Was his conviction something to be concerned about?

"I'll be off now," he pitched, "try to find that bone for you. Someone truly righteous will be difficult to find. If this is going to work, we'll need someone pure." He disappeared before Dean could find a way to get him alone to bombard him with questions.

[xxx]

Castiel did not land where he intended to. Where he was aiming for a cemetery in Louisiana, he found himself in the buttresses of a cathedral somewhere in Europe.

"Germany," came the voice of his brother, leaning against one of the massive structures, one leg crossed over the other, "Cologne Cathedral in Germany." Castiel looked to him in confusion. He chuckled and pushed off the pillar to stand next to the younger. "Like you were going to find a righteous mortal in America. Don't you remember how the country was founded? Blood and violence and genocide. Nothing pure living in that land anymore." He looked out at the city. "That was a busy century for me."

"There are plenty good souls in America," Castiel argued.

"Good? Oh yes many, I don't get _all_ of them," Lucifer laughed lightly, "but 'good' won't cut it. You need pure. Leviathan are slippery little bastards. The Winchesters will have one shot at this. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"So you brought me to Germany?" Castiel tried joking back. "Do you remember the twentieth century?"

Lucifer tilted his head back in laughter. "Holocaust jokes are damning, Castiel, you'd better be careful. Yes, I remember the twentieth century. And the nineteenth. No country's history is free of blood. Not even Switzerland. I'm just not fond of the States. And since the Winchesters are all nice and safe again, I thought we could talk away from them."

"In the foundation of a church," Castiel commented.

"It's where these people go to feel close to God," Lucifer shrugged, "where they go to find peace and direction. I never could quite follow their justification for needing such grandiose structures to worship. I think they say it's God's will but I know for a fact our Father doesn't care either way, as long as they're devout. Still, they are gorgeous."

"They deserve credit for their ability to create," Castiel suggested.

"Their creations come at a cost," Lucifer reminded him, "for everything they create they destroy something else to make it. Houses and buildings might be impressive but is it worth the destruction of whole forests to attain them? Man might be advanced but he's not the only creature God created. He does not respect his fellow creations. How then, can he claim to love God so much, when he destroys everything he touches, including his fellow man?"

Castiel just clenched his jaw, not liking where the conversation had ended up, but also because he wasn't sure he had such a concrete response anymore. Defending humanity used to be so simple, so drilled in to his mind. He wasn't quite sure how to word his defense anymore. "Ensuring the bone we have will work that's… helpful. Why are you helping us?"

"You," Lucifer corrected, "I'm helping you, brother. I'll be honest with you, I don't really care for the Winchesters. Well, I don't care much for Dean. Sam is my vessel, my other half, so I'll always care for him. But he also rejected me and tried to manipulate me where I was always outright and honest with him so there's a little spite there too. But I'm proud of you. You're taking responsibility for your actions. And I want to help you succeed in redemption."

"Why?" Castiel was still skeptical.

"Because I couldn't," Lucifer admitted, and suddenly he stopped talking. Castiel looked up at him, and noticed his eyes held a level of pain he had never seen before. They stood like that for a few moments before Lucifer noticed his brother staring at him and cleared his thoughts with a shake of his head. "I hurt my brothers by rebelling. I hurt Michael by putting him in that situation. It was God's decision to have him beat me down, but I still blame myself. Gabriel told me that all of this was 'just a great big temper-tantrum,' as he put it. And I can see why he thought that. I told you I had made mistakes, and I did. I made the demons. I murdered some of our brothers. I dragged innocents down to Hell and tortured them because I wanted to. And I never took responsibility for that. It was God's fault, I would say, he made me like this. But I was free. He was no longer in charge of me. I did it all, and I blamed Him. Humanity's a mess, and I made it worse. And I can't take it back. Why am I helping you, brother?" He turned to look Castiel in the eye. "Because I don't want you to end up like me."

"But you wanted me to join you," Castiel pointed out.

"Join me, sure. But never become me. I could have taken care of you. I could have made the pain of falling a little more tolerable. But it didn't surprise me when you refused, so determined to do what you thought was right. The problem lies afterwards, when you've succeeded and don't know what to do next. You make a mess. And Heaven abandons you. They leave you broken and bleeding and on your own when they never taught you anything. That makes them kind of assholes. You're falling in to the same trap I did, and I won't let that happen to anyone else." He paused, and for a moment Castiel saw something that looked like sorrow swimming in his gray eyes. "It's too painful."

Castiel tore his gaze away and looked out at the city in front of them. He no longer understood his brother's intentions. He refused to believe that he was looking out for him, but could no longer bring himself to accuse him of anything malevolent, either. The pain in his eyes had been too genuine. Could Lucifer, Heaven's fallen angel and the dictator of Hell, truly be capable of such compassion?

"So the bone of a righteous mortal?" Castiel decided to get back to business, unsure of how to respond to his brother's sentiment.

"Maternus of Cologne," Lucifer held up a femur and smiled, flipping it around in the air as if it were a walking cane. "Stole this straight out of the Church of St. John, ancient dirt and all. Pretty well preserved, but calcium doesn't exactly decay quickly."

"Stealing from a Church is damnable, you know," Castiel mocked.

Laughing again, Lucifer wrapped his right arm around his younger brother's shoulders and placed the bone in his hands like a sword. "It better be, I have a reputation to uphold."

"I'm still having trouble understanding your intentions," Castiel admitted as he examined the bone.

"Of course you are," Lucifer gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, "you've been taught that I am evil, corrupt, and selfish. I wouldn't expect you to take to the truth easily." He rested his chin on Castiel's head, much as he had that first night he was back, and lowered his voice to a soothing murmur. "But you keep listening, and I am forever thankful."

Castiel just nodded, acknowledging the Devil's words but not giving them any meaning. He wasn't always coming back on his own accord, but he never immediately left, so that had to mean something, at least to the older. He still was unsure just how much he trusted the Morningstar, despite how open he had just been with him, how vulnerable he had made himself. No angel did that for just anyone, especially the Archangels. They confided in no one but each other. Lucifer had opened up to him, and he had liked it. He wanted to trust him, but he remained ever skeptical. He was not sure if it was Heaven or Dean to blame for his cynicism. But if the Fallen could help, and was doing so willingly, he would not reject it. He still had to redeem himself, if not to Heaven then to the Winchesters. And he would.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments/constructive criticism. A simple "hey nice job" can go a long way. Thanks so much for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The blood of a fallen angel. The blood of an alpha. The blood of the leader of fallen humanity. The three bloods of the fallen. Sam poured the mixture over the righteous bone, sharpened to a point at one end. No incantation, no lightning or glowing when it was finished. Just an old bone covered in blood. The brothers eyed each other nervously, then looked to Castiel, who offered a supportive smile. They were unsure. They were always a little unsure. But he was confident. He had taken Crowley's blood to Lucifer for authentication. His gagging fit after tasting it ensured him it was definitely Crowley's. The Winchesters had acquired the blood of the alpha vampire. He had learned not to doubt their capabilities. The blood was good. Maternus of Cologne had been a righteous man in his day. Everything was perfect. It wasn't the weapon that worried him. It was the adversary.

While Lucifer and him were having as close as a heart-to-heart as two fallen angels and former enemies could have, the Winchesters had scoped out Sucrocorp and found that Dick had cloned himself. They were counting on him to identify the head Dick, a statement that got snickers from both of them. He didn't understand what was so funny about the situation.

[xxx]

_Castiel's phone rang in his coat pocket. He turned his attention away from his brother, who was lying on his side next to him in the grass, supported by his forearm, to retrieve it._

_"You have a cell phone?" Lucifer asked, astounded._

_"I acquired it when we were hiding from the angels," he explained, staring at the display screen, "When I hid the Winchesters from all angels I was unable to find them as well. Praying to me would have sent out a clear beacon to their location. So I got a phone." He flipped the device open and greeted Dean in his usual manner. Lucifer listened in on the conversation with keen ears. Castiel's eyes glimmered with concentration as Dean gave him the complicating news. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he told his friend he would get back to them on the situation as he looked for a possible solution._

_Lucifer eyed him as he snapped the phone shut and returned it to his pocket. "So… You know that's hardly an issue, right?"_

_Castiel stared at him incredulously. "Multiple copies of the same man, with no way to identify which one is their true leader, and only one shot at killing him. That's not an issue?"_

_"Not really," Lucifer grinned at his brother's bewildered expression. "Cas, you had all of those things swimming around in your meat-suit for, what, two days? Three? That's enough time to get to know them, don't you think? You'll know which one's the Dick you want," he snickered like the Winchesters. Castiel was still oblivious to the humor. "One look and you'll know." Castiel just looked down at his hands, resting between his crossed legs. "How did you hide them from the angels so well, anyway? An angel and his vessel are connected, and even I couldn't find Sam Winchester."_

_"Enochian warding sigils," Castiel informed the older, "I carved them in to their ribs."_

_Lucifer raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Yep, that'd do it. Creative thinking, by the way." He skipped a beat. "A cell phone? Seriously?"_

_Castiel chuckled. "I know."_

_Lucifer laughed softly. "What a peculiar thing you are, brother."_

[xxx]

"You sure you're up to this, Cas?" Dean asked after they appeared in the shed where Dean had been hiding the Impala. "We've only got one shot. We're really counting on you here, man."

Castiel met his eyes, a warm smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Those things were writhing inside me for seventy two hours. I know them, in a strange sort of way. Well enough to know which one is the one that pushed through the wall, took me over, and killed me." He smiled fully now, tone light and joking. "Do me a favor and aim for the jugular."

Dean's smile was lighthearted and a little bloodthirsty. "You got it."

"So, can I ask the plan?"

Dean looked to his baby, still covered in a dirty tarp. "Well, according to Crowley, Dick knows we're coming." His eyes glimmered with mischief. "So we're gonna announce ourselves. Big."

The drive to Roman Enterprises was a few hours from Rufus' cabin. Dean insisted on Castiel coming with them instead of waiting. The drive was mostly silent, save for Dean's familiar, odd music, and maddeningly slow for the angel. Even Meg, who was normally full of witty remarks and casual talk, just stared out the window at the forests rolling by. The extra time allotted his mind to wander, and he could not peel it away from the previous day, the day he had spent almost exclusively with Lucifer.

[xxx]

_"When the Leviathan were inside me," Castiel had decided it was his turn to be open. Unlike the Winchesters, Lucifer seemed to care what his side of the story was, and was willing to listen. "And all of those other evil souls, I changed. I wasn't myself anymore. I'm not even sure if it was me talking and acting during those three days. All I remember is the anger and the fear." He paused, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I was terrified."_

_"Of course you were," his brother looked up at him with concern and empathy, his voice consoling, "you were acting on your own. That's terrifying for any angel. You were also desperate, and feared for the fate of Heaven… and for the Earth and your friends, consequently. You knew your chosen method of control was risky and low, but you had no choice. They used that against you once they were inside of you. The humans forget that after you opened the portal in to Purgatory, it wasn't just you inside that vessel. If this were a court you'd be acquitted by reason of insanity. But it's not a court." Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "It's okay to be afraid, Castiel," his brother's voice was impossibly soothing, "and despite what you've been taught, by the Winchesters and by our brothers, it's okay to make mistakes. It's what you do after you've made them that matters. Fear doesn't have to control you, and your mistakes do not have to define you. They only can if you let them. So, don't let them destroy you."_

_"They did destroy me," Castiel's lip curled in to a dark half smile at the memory of the Leviathan ripping his vessel apart and suffocating his already dimming Grace._

_"And I brought you back," Lucifer said simply, rebalancing his weight a little, "so that you could fix it."_

_"What?" Castiel looked down at him, holding his eyes. The archangel lifted his eyebrows._

_"I brought you back," Lucifer repeated, "Who did you think did it?"_

_"I – I thought – God," Castiel stumbled over his words, taken aback._

_Lucifer snorted. "God doesn't give second chances. Not to us, anyway. I know it's a bit difficult to wrap your head around – you were just a fledgling when I was cast down to Hell – but I have always been there for my brothers. And I always will be." He waited until Castiel met his eyes again to continue his thought, grey eyes drilling in to impossibly blue ones. "I'll always be there for you, Castiel."_

[xxx]

"Cas, hey," Castiel snapped out of his memories at the sound of Dean calling him. "Come outta la-la land for a sec," Dean teased, "need your head on this."

"Yes," Castiel gave him his full attention.

_"He's just jealous 'cause you weren't thinking about him for once," _the Devil taunted in Cas's mind.

_"That's inappropriate,"_ Castiel growled, _"and hardly accurate. I'm not always thinking of Dean."_

_"Uh, beg to differ,"_ the Devil badgered, a smile prevalent in the voice that wasn't even there, _"I've been your bunk-buddy upstairs for quite a while, ever since you stumbled naked out of those woods, actually. If you're not beating the crap out of yourself you're thinking about your little human pet in some shape or form. I've been waiting for the thoughts to get dirty 'cause what's the point otherwise."_

"Yo! Cas!" Dean snapped. "Where's your head at, man?"

"I'm sorry," Cas apologized, trying to put his brother on mute, "I'm just… thinking."

"Well if it ain't about boning some Dick it doesn't matter right now." Sam burst in to laughter in the passenger seat, covering his eyes with his hand. Cas was, once again, oblivious to the humor.

_"It's a sexual innuendo," _Lucifer explained matter-of-factly. _"Dean's being a smartass."_ Castiel giggled at his brother's dry tone.

Dean glanced at him through the rearview mirror with a grin, impressed that he understood the innuendo. Good for him. Maybe Meg had explained the birds and the bees to him during his time in the hospital. "Just tell me you're good on the plan."

"Very," Cas assured him. "How long until we arrive?"

"That depends on how quickly Dean decides to stop driving like an old lady," berated with a laugh.

"Coming from the guy who always drives under the speed limit," Dean slapped his brother's hands away from the wheel, trying to rouse him. Pushing his foot harder on the gas pedal, Castiel felt the machine roar to life around him. The Impala purred happily as her speedometer passed well over the 45 mile-per-hour speed limit on the road they were taking. 50. 60. 75. Dean was not holding back, pushing it further, and the Impala seemed to respond to his recklessness. Castiel imagined that if the Impala were human, she'd be a greater daredevil than Dean. But it was ridiculous to assign personalities to inanimate objects.

_"Pretty sure Dean would smack you if he heard you insulting his precious car like that," _Lucifer mocked.

_"Pretty sure I'm going to smack you if you don't start shutting up soon,"_ Castiel growled, becoming agitated at the Devil's constant commentary. _"Are not our almost daily meet ups enough? When the Winchesters need me, I need to be able to concentrate."_

_"Chill out, Castiel,"_ Lucifer responded, _"I'm bored and you're in a car driving to a hunt. What the hell else is there for either of us to do?"_

Castiel stopped engaging his persistent brother. He still was weary of his ability to talk to him telepathically. It wasn't angel radio, it wasn't even frequencies; it was some sort of psychic connection. He didn't like it. He liked the fact that he could do it back even less.

[xxx]

Meg had successfully bought them time with the security detail around the building, at the expense of the Impala's paint job. Dean didn't like having to tell her to crash his baby into the Sucrocorp sign. But it distracted the Chompers which was what they needed. While Sam went to look for Kevin, Dean and Cas searched for the proper fake Dick. Thus far every one they had encountered was not the one they wanted.

Castiel stopped in the hallway, trying to feel the building around him. Leviathan had no energy signatures to read, seeing as their bodies weren't controlled by energy like animals or pure light energy like angels. They were ancient; they existed of matter but not energy, hence their leaking of black liquid when they were injured. No energy forms held their matter together. So instead of searching for energy, he was searching for a lack of it, which would take a little more concentration. At least Lucifer had left him alone after he stopped engaging him.

"The laboratory," Castiel declared, sensing a significantly lower level of life energy in the bottom level. Grabbing Dean's wrist, he took them to the laboratory, where Dean did not hesitate a beat to decapitate the Leviathan working to package some dairy creamers.

That was him, Cas was sure of it. None of the others had given him the hollow feeling he now felt consumed with. He hadn't even turned to acknowledge the sound of carnage behind him yet, but Castiel didn't need to see his face to know that the monster in front of him was the one that had ripped him in half. His eyes narrowed.

Finally, Dick turned to face them, not at all perturbed by the dead Leviathan spilling black ooze from its neck on the floor. "Little abrupt, but okay," he jested, then met Castiel's glare with a disturbingly friendly smile as Dean sheathed his machete. "Castiel, good to see you again. Thanks for the ride into paradise." He gave him only a glare in return. Dean's face was much more menacing, his hunter's look of concentration darkening his features as he pulled out the bone covered in the three bloods of the fallen. Dick looked impressed. "And good on you, pulling that together. A-plus."

"Oh, you don't think this will work, do ya?" Dean taunted, taking a step forward. "You trust that demon?"

"You sure I'm even me, Dean?" Dick asked with a challenging smile.

"No," Dean shook his head before nodding towards Castiel, whose features had only hardened further, "but he is. See, here's the thing when dealing with Crowley: he will _always… _find a way to bone you." He wagged the bone back and forth tauntingly.

"This meeting's over," Dick declared, making for the door. Castiel pushed past Dean and lunged for Dick, leaving himself open and vulnerable to his defense. He let himself get thrown backwards as Dean plunged the false weapon in to Dick's chest. The pained grunt was only slightly genuine as it dug inside him, but he regained his composure quickly to pull the fake bone out of his sternum. Holding it out in front of him, he snapped it in half in a display of power, his jaw tight and eyes locked on Dean. "Did you really think you could trump me?" He growled, words dripping with venom.

"Honestly?" Dean reached in to the other side of his jacket, revealing the real God weapon. "No."

Dick had not heard Castiel approaching him. Now he grabbed a fist full of the monster's hair and pulled his head back in a way that would have been painful had he been human, pressing his free hand against his back so he could not try to run. The sheer force of his grip was enough to snap anything else's spine, but Leviathan were strong. Without hesitating, Dean stabbed the blood-soaked bone through the side of Dick's neck, hard enough to cause it to exit evenly on the other side. "Figured we'd have to catch you off guard."

His screams of pain were genuine now, throat gurgling as the vile black liquid pooled in his stolen trachea. Castiel only let go when he was sure the ancient beast was immobilized, and backed away. He watched as his true face came out to snarl at Dean, who looked a little disturbed at the display. Black and grey slime oozed out of the wounds, and suddenly the air began pulsating. Castiel looked to Dean, having a staring contest with Dick, and noted the confusion and concern in his eyes as well. The two exchanged looks, but did not move. Dick was still moaning in pain, but judging from Dean's continued staring he guessed he was smiling; that could not be good. They each began backing away simultaneously as the pulsations grew more forceful and more rapid, until they all retreated back in to the Leviathan's body. With one last malicious laugh, Dick exploded in an eruption of that black mucus.

Castiel felt arms and wings wrap around him, and he was suddenly being pulled backwards.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments/constructive criticism. A simple "hey nice job" can go a long way. Thanks so much for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

They landed in a flurry of wings and splaying limbs in a field somewhere across the state. Castiel had tried to fight off his sudden attacker as they flew, causing them to land less than gracefully. He picked himself up and prepared to fight, only to see Lucifer standing in front of him, looking rather shaken.

"What happened?" Castiel asked, confused and slightly breathless.

"Why were you standing so close?" Lucifer demanded, "I told you after you came to me with the blood not to stand to close after you boned him."

"Where are we? Where's Dean?" Castiel pressed his own questions instead.

"That bone has one mother of a kick, Castiel! It's a God weapon, you should know that!" Lucifer brushed himself off. His eyes were unusually concerned.

"Kick," Castiel muttered to himself before puzzling it through, "Where's Dean? What's happened to him?" Lucifer didn't answer, just stepped towards the younger and comfortingly took his fists, still balled and ready to fight. Castiel just tensed even more. "Lucifer, where's Dean?"

"Where do you think?" was the only response he received.

Castiel's eyes widened in horror. "Purgatory?" Again, the Devil said nothing. His jaw slacking, Castiel bowed his head as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Why – why didn't you save him, too?"

"I only had time to grab one of you," Lucifer answered, voice barely more than a whisper.

"Bullshit!" Castiel cursed, violently tugging himself away from his brother, "You knew that bone had a kick! You knew where it would send us! You warned me but knew I had forgotten! And you're inside my head, always! I can feel you! You saw that Dean was standing too close, too, but you only grabbed me!" He blocked his brother's arms, trying to reach out to him, and took a swing at his face instead. Lucifer ducked his jab, and continued only to dodge, not fight back, as Castiel attacked him. Growing more and more enraged, Castiel summoned his angel blade to his hand and kicked the Devil to the ground. Lucifer grabbed his wrist as it came down above his head, preventing the younger from stabbing him in the throat but not attempting to throw him off.

"Castiel, just listen," he tried to reason.

"Was this your intent all along?" Castiel growled, "Get me to trust and welcome you again so you could remove my human friends from the picture? Sentence them to God-knows-what kind of fate in Purgatory since Hell couldn't hold either of them? So help me if Sam was taken in that blast wave too –"

"Sam is fine," Lucifer assured him.

"Right, I forgot," Castiel sneered, "you would never harm your vessel, not really. But Dean's just another human scum. It doesn't matter what he's accomplished or what he means to me. Just as long as he's out of your way –"

"Castiel," Lucifer pleaded, "I didn't know, honestly. You had asked that I leave you alone so I was. I want you to trust me. I peeked for a moment just to make sure everything was going okay. When I checked he was already set to blow. I had maybe a second. That's not even enough time for an angel to retrieve two people, and you know it." He reached up to cup his brother's face with his free hand. "I'm so sorry, Castiel. But I couldn't let you go to that place. An angel can't survive Purgatory."

Castiel fought harder to plunge the blade in to the Morningstar's throat, fighting back tears and choking down his sobs. If an angel couldn't survive, a human was hopeless. It was his fault. He should have told Dean. Even if he wasn't going to listen to his brother he should have at least passed on the warning. Lucifer should have grabbed Dean instead; if either of them deserved punishment, it was him, not the Winchester. The human had not devastated thousands to settle petty vendettas, had not smote half of Heaven because of an identity crisis. Dean had only strived to save as many as possible from the nightmares of their world. Castiel was guilty.

The Morningstar only stroked his face soothingly, his touch impossibly soft and his body relaxed trapped beneath the younger, with the exception of the arm that strained to keep Castiel from killing him. Each time he attempted to move Castiel's free hand shocked him with a painful burst of rage-fueled electricity, so he stayed where he was, continuing to stroke his brother's face supportively as he fought the tears that threatened to shatter his composure.

"Bring him back," Castiel finally commanded in a venomous growl that gave the elder chills.

"I can't," the devil whispered apologetically, "It's Purgatory, Castiel. Even I don't have access to that place."

"There are rumors," Castiel hissed, "of gateways into Purgatory from Hell."

"Myth," Lucifer denied, "If any existed when I was first cast down I sealed them all. The things in Purgatory did not belong in Hell; too easy for them to leak in to the physical realm."

Seething, Castiel wrapped his fingers around the Devil's throat, knowing well that angels did not need to breathe. His nails dug in to the fragile skin until he felt blood tickling his fingertips. "Bring him back," he commanded again, becoming more and more desperate.

"There are other rumors," Lucifer wheezed, air not necessary for his survival but important for talking, "that God built in a safety after creating Man should one of them end up in that horrid place. He never wanted his favorite creation to be condemned to something like that. Hell, sure, but not Purgatory." He had to struggle for breath to continue as Castiel's grip tightened. "Supposedly, a human can escape through a portal that will open for them if it gets near enough to it." He locked eyes with his emotional brother. "He has a way out, Cas. And he's smart. He'll find it."

With one last painful squeeze, Castiel released his brother's throat, who kept his composure, and just waited with him some more while he struggled with his thoughts, not ceasing to stroke his cheek comfortingly. As Castiel's body began to slacken, the Morningstar lifted his neck and pulled his brother's face down to place a feather-light kiss on his lips. Castiel jerked away at the contact and shocked Lucifer again with enough voltage that a pained grunt slipped through his clenched teeth. Seizing his opportunity, Castiel wretched his right arm from the Devil's hold, coming close to snapping the bones, and struck him across the face. Lucifer wrapped his legs around his brother's then and, grabbing his brother's wrists, flipped them, placing himself on top of the younger angel so he could stop the fighting.

"Peace, Castiel!" Lucifer implored, pinning his wrists above his head and trapping his legs between his knees. "I don't want to hurt you, brother."

"Go ahead!" Castiel screamed, "Because I'm going to kill you! You son of a bitch!"

"I'm sorry about Dean," Lucifer dropped his voice again in an attempt to soothe the writhing mess below him, "but I would not fail one of my brothers. Not again."

"What could you possibly care for us," Castiel spat, "you rebelled, despite the pleas of Michael and Gabriel not to. You killed Gabriel when all he wanted was for the fighting to be over. You condemned my friend to hell and haven't even flinched at the thought because what is his kind to you but a pile of cockroaches. What could you really care for your brothers when you seem so calm in the face of those you have murdered?" His words stung worse than any poison.

"You're right," Lucifer conceded, "I killed Gabriel. And I hardly hesitated choosing you over Dean. But I haven't forgiven myself for killing my baby brother, and I feel awful for what saving you has done to someone so close to you." Holding both of Castiel's wrists with one hand, he used the other to hold his face still so he would look him in the eye. "I hate hurting my brothers, Castiel. And I especially hate seeing you in so much pain already."

He bent down further, releasing the younger's face to hold his wrists more securely, and planted another gentle kiss on his lips. Castiel did not fight as much this time; actually, his entire body went rigid at the contact, tensed but completely frozen. Unsure of what this meant, Lucifer initiated another, and felt his brother's lips part marginally. He opened his mouth to reseal the kiss, and relaxed in to his brother's form. Castiel made to move again, and Lucifer thought he had made a mistake, but instead of attempting to hurt him, he dropped the knife, took the Devil's cheeks in his hands, and pressed their mouths together with fervor. Sitting up a bit, Castiel closed any remaining space between their bodies, moving one hand to wrap around Lucifer's torso, fingers tightening around his shirt and catching some flesh. The hand still cupping his face slid upwards to entangle the digits in his hair. Lucifer accepted his desperation greedily.

Castiel was ravenous, his anger translating into a powerful, almost violent lust. The fingers in his hair tightened around one clump and tugged hard, a few strands coming loose. He didn't mind. He actually kind of enjoyed the slight stinging. Sitting back on his heels, he pulled Castiel in to his lap and guided his legs around his hips. A grin spread across his lips, his tongue slipping in to his brother's hungry mouth, as the younger angel locked his legs around the Devil and dug his heels in to the small of his back. He took fistfuls of Castiel's trench coat before jerking it down and off his body, following suit with his jacket. He was prepared to take his time with the buttons of his dress shirt, but Castiel growled and urged him on impatiently. A chuckle rumbling deep in his throat, he wasted no more time and ripped the shirt clean off, the buttons popping off and flying who cared where.

Castiel released his vice grip on the archangel's hair long enough to push his over shirt off his shoulders and pull the remaining one up over his head, tossing it in the most convenient direction before reclaiming his lips. Lucifer twisted the tie still hanging from Castiel's neck around his arm before giving it a good tug and pulling their chests together. Castiel was breathing heavily and clearly overwhelmed, but he was desperate for any sort of release. The Devil would show him the most satisfying form of relief their Father had ever made.

Falling forward onto his knees, the Morningstar lifted Castiel and laid him on the forest floor again, the soft grass caressing the overstimulated skin of his back when Lucifer's hands could no longer. He pulled Castiel's legs up so his back was angled up, his pelvis resting comfortably in the Devil's lap, legs still wrapped securely around his waist. He made quick work of his belt and pulled his slacks effortlessly off his legs, discarding the shoes and socks along with them in what was almost one swift motion. His hands trailed over the impossibly smooth skin of Castiel's vessel, whose chest was rising and falling heavily in anticipation. He teased the angel's flesh for a bit longer before deciding that anymore foreplay would cause his brother to accidentally rip his meatsuit to shreds. His thumbs hooked in the band of the low-slung boxer-briefs and tugged them down, leaving the young, newly fallen angel completely exposed. Castiel reached up to him in silent pleading when he loomed over him again, willing away the rest of his clothing. His trembling hands found Lucifer's arm, supporting his weight, and the hand cupping his face again. Impossibly deep sapphire eyes glittered with lust and slight fear as Lucifer aligned himself with his brother's untouched entrance.

"I'll take care of you, Castiel," Lucifer whispered soothingly, gentle voice made of velvet as the hand supporting himself moved to quickly prepare and lubricate the area, slicking his own length just to be cautious. This was going to hurt, and in Castiel's completely short-circuited state of mind, he might not realize it until there's nothing but fire in wake of pleasure, so the Devil took the necessary precautions for him. Then he realigned himself and pushed past the ring of muscle.

Lucifer had forgotten what the pleasures of the flesh had felt like. Thinking human and demon below him, he had not succumbed to this primal act in a long, long time. Castiel was tight and warm and _beautiful, _so beautiful; his Grace, though fading, young and innocent and powerful and gloriously bright as it pulsated beneath his borrowed flesh. And the sounds that each thrust elicited from that desperate mouth… God, how he had missed his brothers. He leaned down further to place tantalizing kisses on Castiel's chest and abdomen, burying himself deeper in the younger angel writhing beneath him.

Castiel had learned human behavior quickly, and understood it fairly well, but sex was something he had never grasped. He had heard Dean talk of his sexual experiences, but did not understand. He had watched porn and been confused. Now, with the Devil deep inside him, filling him and causing this fire in his gut to be fueled while simultaneously extinguished, he understood their rabid desire for one another's bodies. His hands found Lucifer's back and they roamed wherever they pleased, nails digging harshly into his skin and leaving pale marks in their wake. He pushed back with every thrust, trying to get the Devil in as deep as was possible, to feel that painful bliss for as long as he could.

Lucifer shifted himself, angling himself slightly so he could tease more of Castiel's flesh, when he heard the most desperate cry erupt from Castiel's throat. It was pained, it was angry, it chilled him with its sorrow and aroused him with its desire for more. He guessed he had just hit the vessel's prostate, and attempted to find that spot again as a thin film of sweat began to claim Castiel's skin. The younger's moans became more pleading and whimpering as he surrendered all control and let his composure crumble to pieces, in such need of any sort of release the older could offer. "Lucifer," he pleaded in a barely-audible gasp.

The Devil grinned in a way only the devil could and increased the pace of his thrusts, finding the scene of debauchery in front of him that was once Heaven's most proud and devout soldier irresistible. He was surprised how quickly Castiel had managed to unravel him without even needing to try; he could feel his own ending rapidly approaching.

"Lucifer, I –" Castiel choked out, mind completely short-circuited and all sense completely lost.

The archangel said nothing, just took Castiel's length in hand and stroked it provokingly, trying to help him find that release he was so desperately searching for. Something seemed to be blocking the angel, keeping him dangling just over the edge without spilling over. The amount of tension and heart-wrenching emotion fueling his passion was also stopping him from finishing. Placing a kiss in the center of his sternum, Lucifer reached his Grace out to Castiel's.

The night became daylight in front of Lucifer's eyes. Castiel cried out as his Grace expanded to meet Lucifer's and then exploded in a burst of pure energy, fueled by the purity of the archangel's essence. Castiel didn't even notice the physical symptoms of his orgasm, only the euphoria of his Grace coming back to life from the smallest contact with Lucifer's own.

Lucifer came undone at the feeling and sight of Castiel's Grace, so raw from attention and reconnection with one of his brothers. He found his release deep inside Castiel, still struck with awe at the glory and beauty of another angel's Grace.

Castiel fell slack beneath his older brother, who panted for a minute, head resting on the younger's stomach, still buried in his body. Taking a moment to gain his composure, he pulled out, cleaned the both of them off, and returned his boxers and pants to his person, leaving his shirt off. He loomed over his overwhelmed brother, who lay frozen on the ground, eyes filled with relief and horror. The Devil placed a soft, reassuring kiss on the frightened one's lips, still swollen from their lustful kissing.

"Are you okay, young one?" he asked.

Castiel nodded slowly, not making any other movements, not even breathing, just compartmentalizing everything he had just done. He felt better, so much better, but the act was unspeakable, condemnable for an angel of Heaven. And he still considered himself a servant of the Lord. He had succumbed to the temptations of the flesh, and he had liked it. What was worse, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. His love for their fallen brother had never faded, nor his admiration. Lucifer loved him when the rest of their brothers and sisters had abandoned him.

"Yes," Castiel finally said, and sat up. The Devil leaned back on his heels to allow the movement. The younger brought their lips together once more, softly, lovingly, before restoring his own clothing and standing up, smoothing out his tie, still unknowingly on backwards.

"Where are you going?" Lucifer asked, concerned that he was lying.

"To find a way to get Dean out of Purgatory," he answered with that familiar determination Lucifer recognized in every one of Heaven's soldiers, and his younger brother was gone. Lucifer made no attempts to follow him. Castiel would not accept his help until he forgave him, and despite the release he had just experienced at Lucifer's hand, forgiveness was still a ways away. So he would leave the younger be until he calmed down. He only hoped that wouldn't take too long.

Lucifer looked around the forest he stood in. A slow grin spread across his face the more he noticed the effects of Castiel's Grace. Every dead leaf, every fallen twig, every dead or impure thing in the forest had been cleared away. Even his vessel felt a little better. He examined his skin, and felt his face; the Grace had repaired his vessel, who still continued to wear thin.

Yes, Castiel was beautiful. And he would see that beauty again.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments/constructive criticism. A simple "hey nice job" can go a long way. Please especially leave me any advice on the sex scene as it was the first one I have ever written and I'm an asexual 17 year old virgin so I hope it was satisfactory as far as smut goes. Thanks so much for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry this chapter took so long to upload! I've been really busy lately. Thanks for being patient with me and I hope it was worth the wait! Don't forget to leave a comment! 3**

* * *

Chapter 6

Castiel was dumbfounded at how quickly Sam resigned his search for his brother. Perhaps he was feeling discouraged. But Castiel refused to give up. He blamed himself for Dean's situation. He would get him out. He scoured the Earth, questioning every demon, vampire, shape-shifter, werewolf, or skinwalker he could find for a way in to Purgatory so he could retrieve the human. Many of them, even the more powerful ones, feared him after hearing of what he had done, but none of them had the information he needed. He wanted to smite them in anger, but he knew it was not their fault. He was re-exercising his merciful capabilities, something he never thought he would lose.

Weeks passed him by, and became months. Still he had nothing except rumors, all of which were dead-ends. He found one Leviathan, scared and separated from its pack, who snapped and snarled at him but finally started talking once he injected some cleaning chemicals in to its form. It claimed that the only way for a non-native to get in to Purgatory was to have their soul pulled in by something, and the only way out was by a goddamned miracle. He did not exercise mercy with this monster.

He sat in the former house of Bobby Singer, tipping a rather large bottle of alcohol back and forth. Sam was off having a life with some human female. He supposed it was for the best, but he still could not believe how quickly and surely he had given up the search. He knew that part of Sam Winchester had always longed for a normal life, a life away from hunting, but he never imagined he would take the death and damnation of his brother as a chance to escape. That wasn't the Sam he knew. Frustrated, he grabbed the bottle and chucked it across the room.

Lucifer materialized in the room and had to duck instantly. "Whoa!" Narrowly avoiding the projectile, he watched it the glass shatter and liquid disperse before turning to Castiel. "Bit rude, don't you think, chucking a bottle at my head?" He teased.

"It was not meant for you," Castiel clarified.

"So we're throwing things because we're angry," Lucifer deduced. "I'm assuming that means the rescue mission isn't going too well."

Castiel sighed a deep sigh, tired and melancholy. "I have discovered nothing."

"You checked upstairs yet?" Lucifer asked.

Castiel's eyes narrowed in confusion. "How can I possibly go back?"

"Desperate times," the Devil shrugged, and crossed the room to lean against the desk that Castiel was sitting at. "Heaven doesn't know who's in control or who has what rights to what information. You'd probably find something."

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in the old chair. "I… I couldn't stand to see what I did to Heaven," he admitted.

Lucifer examined his younger brother's face, trying and failing to hide his shame. "I know. That's why I went up there for you."

Castiel's head snapped up and met the Morningstar's eyes. "You did _what?"_

The Devil smirked and sat sideways on the wooden desk. "I know. They were _not_ happy to see me in the clouds again, to say the least, but I wasn't there to fight or take over. I was just there to find out how to get little Dean out of Purgatory. And I think I may have found something promising."

"What?" Castiel demanded sharply.

"Take a walk with me," Lucifer initiated.

"No," the younger shot down.

"C'mon, Cas, it's just a walk," the Devil chimed.

"Lucifer," the dark haired angel snapped.

"I know, I know," the older reasoned, "it's been seven months and you're worried he might already be dead. Cas, he's in Purgatory, he's already dead. Things don't die in Purgatory. It's where monsters go to prey on each other for all of eternity. Something dies it gets brought back in the opposite corner. Dean's been hunting those sorts of creatures his whole life, he's the reason many of them are there. He's smarter than those half-wits. My money's on him killing his way out of there in a few more months anyway. But if it's a rescue we're going for, one walk won't hurt you." His smile lit up his eyes, the charm of the greatest manipulator God has ever created even more intoxicating when he was making sense. Hesitantly, Castiel stood, prepared to follow.

He blinked – such a human reflex – and they were in a forest somewhere in Maine. Analyzing the trees overhead, he turned to Lucifer impatiently. His brother said nothing, only looked ahead and began walking through the trees. Grinding his teeth, Castiel walked with him.

"Where are we going?" Castiel asked impatiently.

"That way," The Devil pointed a finger ahead of them to irritate his younger brother.

"This is ridiculous," growling, Castiel turned around, ready to leave.

"Whoa, hold up," Lucifer grabbed his shoulder. The younger shook violently out of his grip. "You agreed to go for a walk. We're walking. And when we stop, I'll have something to show you."

Castiel looked the archangel over. Seven months had passed since they had seen each other. He had not even heard the Morningstar's voice in his head since that night in the forest. He hadn't wanted to. Part of him wished to never see his brother again. Falling victim to the temptations of the flesh was one thing but to do so willingly, to elect to have lust overtake him and be dominated in such a way? The thought made him feel filthy. He smote an entire den of demons afterwards to try and scrub himself of the indecency of fornicating with the Devil. Being here now with the Devil, walking through the woods towards an unknown destination, he felt hostile towards the one who had seduced him, but also a perverted fondness. He hated himself for all of it, and just wanted to run away. Hesitantly, he picked up their pace again.

Lucifer saw it all in his eyes. The anger, the confusion, the hatred, the self-loathing; Castiel may have fallen, but up until their time in White Russia, he had been pure. Lucifer had robbed him of his purity, and it was as much a prideful and satisfying feeling as it was a little guilt-inducing. He only wished to help him, but he had once again hurt the complicated soldier. Angels were supposed to be simple. Castiel was an enigma.

He glanced at the dark haired one. "Angels don't sleep, but you look like you could use a good long nap," he commented lightly.

"And you look like you could use a skin graft," Castiel retorted idly.

Lucifer couldn't help but smile at the dry humor. "Yes, well, as I've said before, this body still isn't the one built to hold me. But I suppose I'm sentimental."

"Did you attempt to reclaim Sam Winchester?" the younger asked.

"No," Lucifer answered, "because when I got out the first thing I wanted to do was go and see you. Doing so in Sammy's skin would not have been the best way to earn your trust." He grabbed a low-hanging branch and held it up for the both of them to walk over, making sure not to drop it until Castiel was clear.

"Strange," Castiel's eyes were glued to the ground, "I would have suspected your first action to be to pick up where you left off."

"Why?" Lucifer questioned, "Because God wrote fifty thousand years ago that Michael and I were to fight and one of us were to be killed? Because our Father decreed that we are to live a life of violence and unquestioning servitude? No thanks. I played along with his game last time, and guess what? You and those two stubborn little apes derailed that train. Why the hell would I try to put that back on the tracks?" He laughed once. "No thanks. I got freedom. I'm going to do what I want with it."

"And what you want to do is me?"

Lucifer stopped walking to double over in laughter. Confused, Castiel stopped walking too and leaned over to look at him. When the Devil caught his breath, he straightened up and wrapped one arm around his brother to continue walking. "Absolutely."

Tensing, Castiel removed the Devil's arm from around him. "Do not touch me," he said darkly.

Lucifer sighed, trying to control his slow-growing frustration with the dark-winged soldier. "You did not seem to have a problem with it up until now," he commented, keeping his voice level and soft. "I'm very tactile, Castiel. I've been bound to many forms since my expulsion in to Hell."

"I'm asking you to cease," the younger pushed.

"Is this because of that night in the field? Do we need to –"

"What happened on that soil was a sin, and the lowest I've ever sunk!" Castiel was visibly furious now, and taking it out on the archangel. He stopped them in their tracks to yell at the Devil. "If you weren't manipulating me that means I did that lucidly. I have turned my back on Heaven if that is the case in preference of a life of sin and lust, and I cannot handle that. I cannot be that. I am, and always will be, a servant of Heaven and an angel of the Lord. Perhaps you can be okay with being banished from the Host, but I cannot, Lucifer, I cannot." He fought hard against the tears stinging in his ducts. How human he had become, needing to fight so many of his vessel's natural reflexes. Despite his cruel words and blaming, Lucifer was grinning. This confused him. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because you admit it, finally," the Morningstar explained. "When I first came across you in that hospital, you thought you were free of our brothers, and happy with this. But it had broken you in more ways than you could see." He took Castiel's shoulders so he could not avert his gaze, noting how shifty he still was at his touch. "You're an angel, Castiel, you're not meant to survive on your own. You need your brothers. And you need a cause to serve, one that makes you feel righteous. That's why you aided the Winchesters. And now that they've won, that's why your thoughts return to Heaven. You're just seeking out comfort, and that's perfectly natural."

Castiel stared back in to the grey spinning pools of Lucifer's eyes, not trying to shy away from him. He studied the sunken orbs, the Grace behind them shimmering at the mentions of his name and Heaven's. Fascinating was the fallen angel's Grace: pure, powerful energy that somehow burned cold and remained alive despite being severed from the Holy Host. "How did you survive?" He whispered, the sound barely audible. But Lucifer caught it; Lucifer caught everything.

A half-smile tugged at the archangel's lips. "Who says I did?" Releasing his brother's shoulders, he took a few steps forward again, and held out his hand in beckoning when Castiel did not immediately follow. Hesitating, Castiel slowly picked up their pace again, no longer sure his motivation was solely about rescuing Dean.

"Are we almost there?" the younger asked after a few minutes of walking in silence.

"About," Lucifer nodded.

By all of damnation, Castiel was thinking hard; Lucifer could feel the storm inside the younger's head from his place next to him. He wished to peek in, see what was troubling him – though he could manage a few inferences – but he decided that the soldier's troubles were best left to be confessed, not pried upon. His main goal since his re-release from Hell had been to get Castiel to trust him on his own time. So he would wait. But the amount of emotion within the storm would have overwhelmed even him, with all of his experience in dealing with emotional reactions. Castiel was not only young for an angel, but new to free thought and expression. The fact he had discovered feelings at all was rare in and of itself. Angels were not meant to feel or think, only to serve and obey. And the weight of all the negativity that had found him in his first emotional experiences was crushing him.

Lucifer finally stopped walking. Looking around, Castiel was confused. There did not appear to be anything special or significant about their current location. It wasn't a clearing or peculiar collection of rocks or an abnormal formation, just another patch of forest. He scanned their surroundings for a moment longer before turning to his brother, dumbfounded. "Why have we stopped?"

"Don't you feel it?" Lucifer asked.

"No," Castiel answered.

"Give it a moment," Lucifer instructed, "it's subtle. There's an energy here. An odd one."

"I'm growing impatient," Castiel ground his teeth, "why can you not just speak plainly?"

"Because you're not getting it," Lucifer held his gaze. "This world isn't black and white anymore, Castiel, though for some sick reason God let all of you continue on thinking it was. Everything in existence now is varying shades of grey. The good, the evil, somewhere down the line they bled in to one another. Admittedly, that may have been my fault. I'm trying to help you see this because if you don't get it through your thick skull that the world isn't the one you observed two thousand years ago you'll be a mess forever. Stop asking for the answers from your superiors and make up your own for once."

The younger's eyes narrowed. Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. His temper was one of his flaws, a personality trait so graciously given to him by the Pit. Upon his exile there he had grown rather cross. Taming it for the sake of having Castiel listen to him was proving to be a little difficult. Sighing, he apologized. "That came out harsher than I intended. Just stop for a moment and feel the air. Humor me. If nowhere else you should feel it on the ends of your feathers."

It was no secret that Lucifer enjoyed teaching by means of riddles and philosophies. The music he bestowed upon Heaven, aside from being the most beautiful symphonies the Host had ever known, was always heavy with teachings. The angels looked to him for guidance as well as command, as they did with all of the archangels. Castiel had not heard many of the songs; by the time he was created, Lucifer had begun playing less and less. The creation of human beings wore away his desire to play and create. He imagined making him stop and feel was the archangel's way of returning to some of that. So, in an effort to make peace, he focused on the air.

He felt it after a moment, a disturbance in his feathers, still tucked away on another plane of existence. An odd electric sensation flowed from the tips of his wings to his Light. It was subtle, barely there, but once he noticed it, he couldn't turn his attention from it. It bothered him. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's Purgatory," Lucifer responded, "This is the location of the human portal. It's a one-way connection, there's no worry of a human falling through from Earth into Purgatory, but some of the energy can be felt even when it's dormant. It bothers you, right? It should. Purgatory is a place of eternal nightmares, less pure than Hell. Some of the things in there, angels aren't meant to come in contact with. We have no defenses against them. You felt it, right, when faced with that Leviathan, that constant discomfort? Most angels don't even realize they have a fight-or-flight defense mechanism. That was your Grace telling you that creature is capable of killing you and you have minimal defenses against it."

"This is supposed to make me feel better how?" Castiel asked darkly. The thought of Dean trapped in a realm with faceless monsters not even he could stand his ground against troubled him more than the thought of him being trapped and outnumbered by abominations.

"Because this is where Dean will emerge from Purgatory when he finds the portal," the Morningstar said. "You'll be able to see when he's close from this end. It'll react to his presence on the other side."

Castiel's eyes glistened. "Is there any way to open it from this end?"

Lucifer looked at him in alarm. "Why the Hell would you want to do that?"

"To go and get him myself," Castiel answered with resolve.

"Like Hell I'd let you do that," Lucifer roared, "I barely got you clear of Dick's explosion, I'm not about to just let you flip in to Purgatory on your own terms! The point of Purgatory is to keep things _in, _and the more powerful they are, the more difficult it's supposed to be for them to get out. You're an angel, Castiel; even in this debilitated state you're more powerful than half the creatures in there. You really think you'd be able to just come back? Dean's got a way out. No human is intended to stay in Purgatory. It'll spit him out one way or another. But you? To that place you're just another inmate."

"I'll go in and lead him to this place, then follow him out through the portal," Castiel pitched.

"And if you can't follow?" Lucifer challenged, "It's a _human _portal, Castiel."

"Then I'll be where I belong," the younger answered finitely.

That caught Lucifer off guard. He sympathized with Castiel's guilt. He had named himself the Winchesters' guardian. This was obvious. It was understandable, then, why he felt responsible for Dean's current situation. It was understandable, too, why he felt shame towards having let the Leviathan loose. But here he was, confessing just how little he thought of himself and how much he still did not forgive himself. Lucifer found himself at a loss for words for what was likely the first time in his timeless existence.

"Castiel," was all he could manage.

"I need to do penance," came the younger sharply, "when an angel makes as many mistakes as I have, and ones with such weight, they are punished. I cannot simply be forgiven for what I have done, Lucifer. I cannot. And I will not allow it. I slaughtered thousands of humans on Earth. I am meant to be their shepherd, not their executioner. I devastated Heaven in unparalleled ways. Not even you are capable of the destruction I have caused. You said 'no' once and Father condemned you to Hell for all of eternity. Do not tell me I am deserving of anything less than the land of eternal torment." He was fighting tears again.

Lucifer kept calm for the sake of his delicate sanity. Soothingly, he took his brother's shoulders, smoothing out the sleeves on his trench coat. Castiel attempted to jerk away from the contact, but Lucifer gripped his arms and held him in place. "Look at me, brother," he cooed, but when the younger refused to meet his eyes, he resorted to a hypocritical method. "Castiel, look at me," he bellowed in the authoritative voice he had not used when addressing an angel in thousands of years. Castiel's eyes met his instantly then, alert and attentive, the need to listen to his superior still written too deep in his subconscious.

"Now listen to me, Castiel, because I'm putting an end to those thoughts right here," his tone had not changed. "You are _not _deserving of eternal torment. You made a mistake; this is natural when choosing your own path, which is what you have done. One mistake does _not _condemn you to a lifetime of suffering, despite what our Father may have taught you. It's not the mistake that matters, but what you do to correct it." He leaned in closer. "So, dear brother, what are you doing?"

"Rescuing Dean," he whispered, the words barely audible.

"Right. Good. But rescue does not require self-sacrifice. Even if access to Purgatory were possible through this portal, you would not be doing that because that is not what he needs. When he gets out of there, and he _will _get out of there, he'll need you. So no more of that martyr talk, got it?"

He bowed his head. Lucifer could have slapped him. "This isn't an order, Castiel; I'm trying to get you to see this on your own. Do you understand that you can move on from this without punishment?"

Castiel's eyes were wide with intimidation and determination, and a hint of skepticism. Somehow, through all of this, the stubborn little soldier still didn't trust him. Was it the fact that the choices he made with his own freedom were not the best? Very likely. Their Father had used the consequences of his refusal to bow to humanity to train the Host into the utmost loyalty. He wove wondrous tales of the true face of freedom for angels. An angel could not know freedom, he warned, it was not within their abilities to make proper decisions on their own. They are capable of it, indeed, but it would destroy them, turn them in to monsters like it had the beautiful Archangel. Free will, he said, was not designed for angels. They existed to serve, and they were to be content with it.

He repeated his question, a little softer this time. "Do you understand that, Cas?"

"Yes," he finally answered, and Lucifer released his shoulders.

"Good." He quipped, returning to his lighter manner of speaking. He had never been fond of the angels' almost brainwashed way of listening to him and his brothers. The amount of control they had at their disposal over the Seraphs was intended to eradicate disobedience. Even back when he was Heaven's golden child, he found it irritating that they could not disapprove of any of his words. Simple questions and favors may as well have been the Word of God himself whenever the Archangels spoke. Most of the time he paid no mind to it, but every now and again he became conscious of it. Perhaps that minute awareness had sparked his rebellion. He didn't know, but didn't particularly care anymore. What was done was done.

"Would you mind leaving me alone for a while?" Castiel asked respectfully, eyes fixated on where he thought the energy was bleeding from. He could feel his brother's eyes on him, but did not wish to return his gaze.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "So you can try to pry that portal open?"

"So I can think," the dark-haired one corrected. "That's what you want, isn't it? For me to think for myself?" Lucifer nodded. Castiel could feel it hanging in the air. "It's hard to form unbiased opinions when you're here."

Lucifer grinned proudly. "I'll take that as a compliment." And he left the younger alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**Please leave any comments! A simple "hey nice job" can go a long way and keep me updating! Thanks again for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry this chapter took so long to post. I've been really busy with college technicalities. I hope it's worth the wait! Thanks so much for sticking with it!**

* * *

Chapter 7

Castiel went back to that location in the forest in Maine every day. In between searching for ways to rescue Dean himself and checking up on Sam, he made sure to return to that spot at least once every day, doing a quick scan of the forest to make sure he hadn't already gotten out before standing and waiting patiently. He sometimes stood there for hours, watching the sun rise or set. Whenever he returned, he tilted his head to the sky and prayed for Dean's safe homecoming. Prayer had never stirred doubt in his mind until these past few years, when it became apparent that God had abandoned them. But it was all he knew to do while he still had no answers. God had resurrected him at least twice. The third may have been Lucifer but the first two times could have been no one else. Maybe he was still watching. His prayers were short, but consistent. For the rest of his time in those woods he just stood, stoic and unmoving, waiting for something to happen.

Tonight he sat, legs crossed, arms meeting at the wrists in his lap. A feeling of discouragement found him three nights ago, and his visits to this place became shorter. He intended to stay here longer, but found himself disheartened. So he sat in the grass and leaves, under the cover of the rustling leaves from the vast forest surrounding him, mentally praying as loud as he could for Dean to appear tonight.

"You've been praying for hours," he heard Lucifer's voice behind him, "Same prayer on loop all night. Michael can probably hear you from the pit."

Castiel did not stop praying when he responded simply, "Only God is to hear our prayers to him."

"God and the Archangels," Lucifer corrected, and sat down next to him. Castiel did not seem to acknowledge his presence. "We heard them all, every prayer from every angel, seraph, cupid, mortal, whatever. We were his spokesmen, and his administrators, in a sense. Sorting through the prayers was part of the job, which ones to honor and which ones to ignore. As man's numbers grew, so did the prayers. Usually it was us dealing with those. Often times we would be the ones to answer the prayers of our brothers, not Him. The ones we deemed the most important, we would pass on to Him."

"…the most important?" Castiel's words were barely audible.

"People pray about the most pointless things," Lucifer ranted, "especially back when they were first spawned. Seriously, back in the beginnings of man, we never got a freaking break from their prayers. If they stubbed their toe they'd pray for the pain to go away. Nowadays it's a lot of boring and predictable stuff. 'Dear God, please make me filthy rich,' 'Dear God, please let me get that promotion,' 'Dear God, please let a McDonald's open in my town,' they have no will or motivation to achieve anything on their own. Because God makes everything and favors man the most, God should bow to their every will, all seven billion of them. And they claim to be _His _humble servants." He snorted. "When I got out of the pit I started hearing all of the prayers again, back in the Holy coverage zone. With me gone Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael must have had so much bullshit to sort through. God only ever cared about the really pertinent stuff. Maybe he left because he had nothing to do anymore. Or he was tired of their whining."

"Stop," Castiel tensed bitterly. He had his doubts about Heaven, but to blaspheme God in such a way as Lucifer was now was condemning. He would have no part of it.

"Sorry," Lucifer apologized genuinely, "you know me, highly opinionated. It's a nice feeling though, getting to say and think and do whatever you want." He paused to study his younger brother's face, wrought with uncertainty. "Once you figure out how to use that. And you will. Soon as you realize what it is you want."

"You sound like you already know," Castiel pointed out.

"Of course I do," Lucifer answered smugly, "but telling you would rob you of the discovery. You need to sort it out on your own."

"You continue to say that," The younger reproached, "and then tell me how to do so."

"Because you're doing it wrong," the Morningstar snickered. Castiel gave him a look, which made him cackle louder. He raised his hands in yielding. "Hey, I'll back off if you really wanna travel this road solo."

"I never said that," the raven-haired one denied almost too quickly.

"Then don't question my methods," the devil chimed self-righteously, placing his arm around the younger in a somewhat mocking manner. Castiel shrugged it off of him. "Right, right, my bad; _no touching,"_ the older sneered sardonically.

"If you're going to be an ass, just leave," Castiel growled bitterly.

Lucifer's lips fell into a frown. "I'm not trying to upset you, Cas," he explained. "You were praying pretty desperately. You're a mess, which is odd considering it's pretty hard to throw an angel off balance, even a falling one." Castiel shifted uncomfortably. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. Maybe get you to take a break from your portal duty." His brother did not respond, did not even move. He sighed. "Cas, I know I told you that he'll find this place, but the fact is, that could take a very long time. You shouldn't feel the need to watch it every second of every day. Nor should you feel the need to rescue him, really."

"One of us has to," Castiel almost spat.

"Wrong again," the older disagreed, ignoring the clearly vicious jab. "Accidents can happen now that the Fates are unemployed. And no miracles can bring him back; he's beyond the touch of an angel. Hoping is healthy, praying is reasonable, but destroying yourself with self-loathing while ignoring the possibility that he may never come back will kill you. And I'm not allowing that. Not when this is not your fault."

"Accepting your guilt here?" Castiel inquired.

"Nobody is guilty of anything here," Lucifer avoided, "but it's nice to see the humans have imprinted their desire to project blame on easy parties onto you. Really nice quality, Cas."

The soldier narrowed his eyes. "If we are naming negative qualities in one another now, might I bring to light –"

"I'm unashamed of my imperfections," Lucifer interjected, "I became aware of just how imperfect our Father and His world and creations are when I fell. I went through the shock of it all and then _got over it._ And I'm okay with it. You've been exposed to all of it for years now. You've seen what our brothers are really capable of, what you're really capable of. Corruption and imperfection are not limited to the Earth, and they are not absent in us or our Father. We wanna turn this into a chat about all that's wrong with the world? We'd be talking until the end of time. What surprises me, and frankly what I think is holding you back so much, is how hesitant you are to accept this."

Castiel exhaled sharply, trying both to keep his temper in check and resist the urge to lash out in frustration. "Do you understand the weight of that? Asking me to simply accept the horrors is asking me to ignore everything I have grown to know and accept as fact. According to you, my entire existence has been shrouded in lies, when I am supposed to be a harbinger of truth and enlightenment to others. Do you understand what that means for me?"

"Yes," Lucifer bore his eyes into Castiel's until the younger felt obliged to meet his gaze. "What upsets me so much is the fact that you'd rather go against your nature to tell the truth now in order to sell a lie to yourself just because it's more comfortable. You don't have to go through this alone, Castiel. I did, and it was agonizing. I won't let you do it alone."

The younger averted his gaze again, responding to the tense silence with only "you talk a lot," after a minute.

"You engage me," the archangel said simply, "nice to have someone to hold real conversations with after only having dimwitted vermin available for socializing for however long I was down there for. How long was I gone, anyway? Time's all a blur down there. Sometimes it felt like only seconds had passed; sometimes it felt like the universe had run its course."

"Four thousand years," Castiel answered monotonously.

Lucifer shrugged. "Not so bad." The raven-haired one scoffed at the Devil's sarcasm.

"You told me back when I first reappeared that you all missed me," Lucifer reminisced, restraining the heavy sorrow behind the question, "did you mean it?"

Castiel thought back for a moment to give his brother the most honest answer. "Yes," he finally said.

"And you?"

Castiel locked his jaw. "Yes."

Lucifer smiled. Looking up at him, Castiel felt the infectious grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Everything could be okay if the Morningstar was smiling. That smile had helped fuel the lights of the first mornings on Earth. Even now, with all of damnation poisoning his mind, the archangel was still a beacon of purity and hope in the soldier's mind. So maybe, if Lucifer could keep smiling, it would be a great enough miracle to bring Dean back.

"Why did you engage me?" Castiel felt reluctance warning him not to ask, but fought it. "After you pulled me to safety and I attempted to kill you, why did you engage me like that? Of all the ways to respond to someone trying to take your life, that was by far the most peculiar I've ever encountered."

A flash of teeth as Lucifer's grin became slightly perverse. "There's no satisfactory answer to that question for an angel so convinced that the act is impure."

"Ignore my opinions then. What was your motivation?"

Shrugging, Lucifer leaned back on his hands. "Emotions are tricky, Castiel. Anger, sorrow, the really powerful ones can present themselves in pretty violent ways. Hence why you tried to kill me. And repressing them is not easy, nor is it healthy. Emotions need to be released. Bottling them up is harmful. That doesn't necessarily mean that just because they presented themselves as bloodlust, they have to be carried out in such a way. They can be channeled and released through other means." His eyes glimmered with mischief. "Lust causes a lot of physical reactions. I simply offered you a different form of release that didn't involve killing me. I like not being dead; would prefer to stay that way."

"So, you were just –"

"–distracting you, giving you another outlet for all that rage, yes. You embraced the pain of it, remember? Pain releases those built-up chemicals in your head. And as long as you're in a human form, they'll affect you. I don't think it technically counts as masochism so you shouldn't have to worry about any secret fetishes. Not that they're a bad thing. Whatever gets you off." He did not wink suggestively, but he did not have to. Castiel heard it in his tone. Sometimes the Devil's lewd humor was predictable.

"So long as that was not you fulfilling some long repressed desires," the soldier mumbled.

"We met once before my fall," Lucifer said, "don't flatter yourself. Captain of the Garrison of Earth is an impressive title, I'll give you that, but there was no interest there. I knew your name. That's about it. But if you're looking for blackmail, ask Anna about that time during the formation of the Rocky Mountains. Should catch her off guard."

The suggestion hardly registered to the younger. "Anna is dead."

"Oh," suddenly the Morningstar lost his halfhearted tone. "I didn't know. Who killed her? If it was a demon I'll bury the entirety of Hell."

"It was Michael," Castiel explained, "at the aid of the Winchesters." He regretted mentioning the Winchesters at Lucifer's vengeful countenance. "You and Anna were close, then?"

"She was a good soldier," Lucifer nodded, "intended to stand with me during my rebellion. I convinced her not to. She would have been killed for standing with me. Heaven was going to need at least one angel still capable of thinking for themselves when I was gone." He sighed. "A lot of good it ended up doing."

The archangel's thoughts consumed him. Castiel wondered if he would even hear him should he say anything. Clearly whatever his relationship with Anna before his banishment into Hell, it went beyond professional admiration. He wondered for a moment what leaving her behind must have been like.

"I'll just leave you to it, then," Lucifer gestured towards the empty air in front of them as he stood, "you never know, he could be back tonight." Castiel wanted to call to him, insist he stay and share his thoughts, but he found himself incapable of speaking. The Devil was gone before he could work out how he would ask his brother not to leave.

* * *

**Please leave any comments/constructive criticism. A simple "hey nice job" can go a long way and encourage future chapters to be posted much quicker. Thanks so much again for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm noticing this story is very dialog-centered. I'm hoping to change that in the coming chapters, but hopefully it's at least readable for now. This one's a lot of talking as well. Sorry if it's not very exciting. Anyhow, thanks so much for sticking with it this far!**

**[xxx]**

* * *

Chapter 8

Castiel still spent all of his time either at the portal site or scouring the Earth looking for a way to bring his human pet back. Lucifer empathized with the obsession to a degree. He understood the guilt, and the determination, but he could not wrap his mind around the fixation on Dean Winchester. Why him? Why a human? Most angels thought little of them, even if they weren't supposed to be capable of free thought. All angels harbored some personal opinions, they just ignored them. He couldn't.

His father had made him like that, surely; nothing happened without God's approval. God controlled every aspect of the angels, and thusly, created Lucifer to be rebellious. He had thought about it for millennia, how his father had intentionally gave him the gift of free thought and then punished him for it. Ultimately he had arrived at the conclusion that God had a twisted sense of humor. His creations were entertainment to him. That's why he permitted disease and poverty and violence and torture. These things were interesting. Simplicity was not. Sometimes the Devil hated God. Sometimes he agreed with him.

Castiel was not much for talking while he was on Portal Duty, and attempts to get through to him were testing the Devil's patience. He could only contain his desire to completely reprogram his younger brother's mind through so much obstinance. So he had left him alone for the past few weeks. The younger never deviated from his strict schedule so Lucifer knew exactly where to find him should he need him. In the meantime, he reacquainted himself with the world.

Mindful of the fact that any impactful activity would set off an alarm not only in Castiel's head, but in the heads of all the angels still in Heaven, Lucifer revisited many of his favorite locations on Earth, grimacing when he saw the state of them. Once glorious mountains, fields, forests, and rivers, now had fallen to the industrialization and selfishness of man. He wondered if this could even be called Earth anymore. Whole species, too, had been wiped out by their carelessness. God found this acceptable? He scoffed. Of course he did. Everything man did was acceptable to Him.

The more of Earth he saw, the sicker he felt. They had destroyed their home, this beautiful work of God, and they did not even care. He hated them. He hated God for letting it happen. He hated the angels for not standing with him when they had the chance. Had all of Heaven sided with him, perhaps they could have saved this wonderful place, the true embodiment of God's beauty. But that beauty was gone now, in God and on Earth. Were he human he would have thrown up. Instead he just felt the numbing effect in his Grace.

Seeking something he did not wish to smite, he opted to visit an old friend. Who likely wanted nothing more than his Grace in a jar and his head on a spike. The thought made him smirk.

[xxx]

Sam hooked the leash onto his impatient dog, eager for their morning jog. Opening the door quietly so as not to wake Amelia, he lets his companion out first, and is almost pulled into their usual pace. Two miles down the road and back again. He may not have as vigorous a training schedule now that he was no longer hunting, but he kept himself in shape. Two miles was nothing.

When they got back, Amelia had awoken and was prepping breakfast for the three of them. He kissed her cheek and unhooked the leash so the dog could get to his water. When breakfast was ready, and she sat down, he wondered why he had turned his back on a life like this after Azaezel was killed. Just until Jess's death was avenged, that's what he had told Dean when he first fetched him from Stamford. That was six years ago. He was supposed to have returned to a normal life six years ago. Why had he waited? The answer was both simple, and not so simple.

Dean.

His brother depended on him. They depended on one another, really. So when he asked Sam to stay, he did. That's how it always worked. Listen to Dean. But he didn't always want to. And not listening to him had almost gotten them both killed. Worse, it freed Lucifer from Hell. So many things in their lives and in the world went wrong after he decided to remain a hunter. Everyone would have been better off if he had just left when he said he would leave. Dean might have even still been alive. His justifications for not looking for his older brother were shaky, even to him, but he managed to convince himself this was for the better. It gave them both a way out. Even if Dean's way out unfortunately was death. The two of them came to terms long ago that they likely would not see age forty. And they'd had more chances than most. Everyone's time had to come eventually. And in truth, he was tired of fighting for their survival. He didn't want to survive anymore. He wanted to live.

"Are you really living though, Sam?" came a startlingly familiar voice. He turned back around to face forward and saw Lucifer back in the same vessel he "improvised" as he called it back when they freed him. Jumping, he made to run and grab the angel blade he kept hidden in the kitchen. "I wouldn't," Lucifer interjected, "She can't see me. Wouldn't want to appear anything other than normal, now would we? So I suggest keeping your voice down as well."

"If you hurt her," Sam growled, fists clenched at his sides as he spared one last glance in Amelia's direction, still cleaning the dishes from their breakfast.

"Thought never crossed my mind," the Devil's eyes were uncharacteristically friendly. He motioned to Sam's ajar chair with them. Hesitating, Sam seated himself again, entire body tensed.

"How are you even here right now?" He growled. "I jumped into that pit with you trapped in my body. The door snapped shut behind us. There's no way you could have escaped."

"I would have said the same thing to you," the Devil chuckled, "yet here you are without a scratch; barely an unpleasant memory on you thanks to loyal little Castiel. He pulled you out. You don't think I couldn't have followed him? Clever little tactic he pulled, finding a way into the cage like that. The thing about it is, it's so heavily secured that you get the alert on the inside as well that someone's breached it. So following him out wasn't particularly challenging. Hell, I let him rescue you for that reason. So we both got a get-out-of-jail-free card. How 'bout that?"

"Not buyin' it," Sam glared at him, "Castiel's careful."

Lucifer scoffed. "Is he? Could have fooled me with the Leviathan fiasco. Even the archangels know not to fuck with Purgatory. Well, at least they did. Raphael brought his death upon himself. He was always a bit thick. Made him a bit of a liability at times."

"Sam?" He heard Amelia call. "Who are you talking to?"

"Just on the phone," he answered back quickly, jumping up and pulling out his phone. Lucifer nodded in understanding, a look on his face not unlike some form of parental pride. Sam went to the kitchen to kiss her see her face-to-face. "I've actually got to head out for a couple of minutes."

"Everything alright?" She asked with a hint of concern.

He gave her his best boyish grin. "Everything's fine, just gotta take care of something." With a quick kiss to her cheek, he returned to the dining room and gestured to the Devil to follow him.

"Go ahead and grab your angel blade if it makes you feel more comfortable, Sam," he offered, "I promise I'm not here to harm you, but I know a hunter's instinct."

Wondering if it was one of the Devil's tricks, he eventually decided on grabbing the blade anyway before heading outside. "Whatever you're here for, just leave her out of it," Sam demanded as he led the Devil away from his house.

"I'm just here to talk," Lucifer said.

"Like Hell you are," Sam's tone sounded defensive.

"Honestly. Oh, might want to hold your phone up to your ear, unless your neighbors are used to you talking to yourself," the archangel chaffed.

"We're not doing this here."

"Where then? I can take us wherever you'd be most comfortable having a conversation." He paused to listen. "Castiel's a little busy trying to find a way to rescue your brother right now. Doubt he's listening to prayers."

Sam stopped. "How the Hell do you know that?" He looked ready to murder the Devil at any moment.

"Let's get to where we're going so we can have a proper chat," the archangel avoided.

"I'm not saying a word to you without Castiel here."

"We don't need a supervisor."

"I don't like being outmatched. Would at least like to have the numbers on my side." Something sparked behind Lucifer's eye at that. Sam dared not ask why that excited him.

The next time he blinked they no longer on the sidewalk in his neighborhood. Instinct overwhelmed him and he took a fighting stance, taking the angel blade out from tucked in the band of his pants and readying it.

"Calm down Sam," Lucifer said calmly, gesturing for him to relax. "Just figured we'd go somewhere you're more comfortable. This place is a home to you, is it not?"

"More comfortable, I'm -" He stopped when their location registered. Bobby's old house. Dust had claimed all of the furniture and books. Some bottles still remained scattered about. The once cozy home of the simple hunter now felt abandoned and melancholy. He had not even given this place a passing glance during a drive by since Dean's death. "Bobby's?"

"You've never had much of a home besides this place, if my memory of your head serves," he leaned back against the old desk, "and it does."

Sam sighed in an attempt to clear the depressing images from his mind. "What do you want?"

"Just to talk, I assure you. You know me, I talk a lot."

"Yeah, and it's never good for the subject to listen," Sam pointed out, trying to decide if sitting would be wise.

"Don't be so sure of that," Lucifer disagreed, "it helped clear Castiel's head after he lifted the Hell scars off of yours. Go ahead and sit down, Sam. I'll keep at an arm's length if it makes you more comfortable."

The Devil reading his mind almost did not register. "Cleared Castiel's… how long have you been out?" He demanded.

"Longer than you'd prefer to know," Lucifer answered honestly. "And at the moment you're wondering how you didn't notice. This may come as a shock to you, Sam, but it's not because you've been out of the game. I've been enjoying my freedom. The apocalypse was de-railed, why would I bother trying to set it up again? All it means for me is I have to kill my brother, and be framed as the enemy again in the eyes of Heaven. It's just nice to get some fresh air now that I've got a second chance. So I'm saying 'screw you' to God's plan." He paused to get Sam to look at him. "Trick I learned from a friend."

Sam scoffed. "You were the original rebel. You didn't learn that from me."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side and back. "I'm not so sure my rebellion wasn't foretold. Heaven was run more strictly than any totalitarian government. Except the angels actually enjoyed it because they knew nothing else. But think about it, Sam: nothing is created without God's approval,because he's the one that makes it. I couldn't have rebelled unless he allowed it, couldn't have even began to question his decisions unless he made me capable of questioning. I think he wanted that because he wanted balance, and maybe to elevate Heaven's status a little. But I did not come here to discuss that. Unless you're truly interested, in which case we can make time for it later. What I really hoped I could talk with you about actually fits our current setting very well. I remember a time when you killed yourself to keep your brother safe. When you risked the future of your world just to try and protect him. Now he's locked in Purgatory and you're just sitting on the side lines pretending this is somehow better for the two of you? Something's not right with this picture."

"What's 'not right' with it is that I'm leaving the hunting life behind me."

"This will always be your life, Sam."

"Suddenly a little skeptical I wasn't always 'running towards you?'" Sam instigated.

"Not in the slightest. I'm wondering what the Hell happened to that co-dependent relationship you and Dean had. Or is Hell exactly what happened?"

"What do you even care?" Sam snapped.

The Morningstar almost looked offended. "Your inability to comprehend that I genuinely care for you is understandable. I assume you're trying to find some sort of agenda in my actions. There's nothing to find. I'll take you back to your foster life if trying to talk to you will get me nowhere. But this passive behavior is not sitting well with me. That's not who you are, Sam Winchester. You're not the type of guy to sit back and let chaos unfold. You don't let anything or anyone tread on you. Fate is not a concept you agree with. You believe in taking a stand and fighting for the right to choose your own path. You're like that because I'm like that. 'As it is in Heaven, so shall it be on Earth,' remember? So either you think Dean truly belongs in Purgatory - which I sincerely doubt - or something's soured your grapefruit."

Sometimes the words the Devil chose required rethinking. He wasn't sure if it was deliberate or just another example of angels being socially inept. "I don't have an answer." His voice sounded more pained than he wanted it to. He looked at his hands. "I thought I'd be more upset than this when Dean died. It was sad, I mean, I lost my brother _again, _but I don't know. I'm just so tired of it all. I've lost him too many times, and no matter how many times I fight to get him back, there's gonna come a time where I'm going to lose him for good. Nobody can live forever. I'm sick of the chase. It's not even a chase anymore. It's tug-of-war."

The Devil was staring at him, listening insightfully. "I left home and went to school because I never wanted this life," he continued, "I wanted a normal one. But as long as I keep getting involved in this sort of stuff, rescuing Dean from Hell, breaking him out of Purgatory, whatever, the deeper I dig myself into this life. I just want a normal, boring existence like the rest of the world."

"You're the vessel of an angel An archangel. You're life was never destined to be normal, Sam. You were always meant for something greater."

"Well that time has come and gone. Now I just want to be meant for something smaller."

"You threw away the rulebook. You changed the course of action for this world. In paradise perhaps you would have gotten a break but you chose this life, a life of hardships and pains."

Sam gave him a look. "Getting to paradise meant Michael killing you. I would have died to."

"Wasn't talking about that paradise." Sam ground his teeth at the Devil's half-smile. "I still like my design plan for the Earth better. But your choice also reflects your view on family, which I'm rather proud of. And why I'm refusing to believe that this is it. Knowing him, Castiel will find a way to get Dean out of Purgatory with our without your help. So where will that leave the two of you when he comes back?"

"And you know Castiel?" It was more of a dismissal than a question.

"He's my brother. I know him better than you imagine. And him and I are more alike than he's currently willing to admit. He'll come around though. Regardless," Lucifer clapped his hands together and pointed towards the younger Winchester brother with his joined fingers, "just wanted to get you thinking about what this path could mean for your relationship with your brother once Castiel returns him to the world of the living."

"Does it even matter?" Sam snapped, fed up with the Devil's game. "This doesn't concern you at all. I cannot honestly see you caring about the trivial relationships of a couple of humans! So what's your real game?"

The Morningstar caught his gaze and did not let it go. The silence between them hung heavy, but Lucifer let it sit. Sam stared back, and he noticed some clarity coming to the human's slower mind. Humans liked to communicate through eye contact, so he held it until Sam's eyes softened. His focus did not change, did not even blink, when he finally spoke.

"You will always be important to me, Sam Winchester. And you willingly condemned yourself to an eternity in Hell for the safety of your brother. I can relate."

Sam dropped their shared gaze first to stare at his hands. He idly remembered watching the Devil use them to beat Dean senseless against the impala, the only home they had ever really known during a life on the road. Bobby's house was a comfortable, and was a home of sorts. But home to both of them for so long had been the open road, one in the passenger seat (usually him) and the other driving the Impala too fast down an empty street, the sound one of Dean's tapes playing because he was too picky to listen to anything other than what he owned mixing with the purr of the car below them. He remembered Dean wheezing out _"It's okay Sammy, I'm here," _from behind broken teeth, a broken jaw, two black eyes and a broken nose, his entire face swollen and sore. He remembered seeing the army man in the ash tray, still crammed in there from when he got it stuck in there when he was eight or nine years old, he couldn't remember which, and all of the little kinks the two of them had collectively put in the Impala's armor throughout the years that Dean had taken care to leave as they were when he rebuilt her. They were together, they were home, and that gave him the strength to push through the Devil's hold on him and save the only thing that ever mattered to him, the only constant in his life: Dean. Dean had taken care of him. It was his turn.

He looked up, but Lucifer was gone, as was Bobby's house. He was in Amelia's living room again, his position the same. He looked around frantically in hopes of getting in one last word, but the Devil had left him to his thoughts.

Amelia rounded the corner and started at the sight of Sam there when she had not heard him come in. "Hey," she called cheerily, "everything alright?"

He looked at her, shaking off his confusion. "Yeah. Everything's fine." He smiled. Because everything would be fine, too. He'd make sure of it. He knew Castiel, too, and knew that when the angel became determined, he found a way to accomplish his goals. Maybe he could achieve them quicker with a little help.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments or constructive criticism! A simple "hey nice job" can go along way and kick me in to gear when it comes to actually grinding out the next chapter! Thanks so much again for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay next chapter! Sorry this one took so long. I've had a really busy August, full of last-minute summer activities before moving in to college. Now that I'm all settled in to my dorm though I've had more time to write than I expected. We'll see how long that lasts once my classes get in to full swing. I have adopted a story to beta for another writer though so I wouldn't hold up too much hope for more frequent updates. Sorry. I promise to update as frequently as possible but unfortunately I cannot spend my entire life writing. Believe me, if I could I would. Throw money my way for writing fanfiction and original content and I'll gladly do this in between every class. Would save me the headache of needing to find a part-time job. **

**[xxx]**

* * *

Chapter 9

Lucifer was observing the rush of Boston from the roof of a skyscraper somewhere in the heart of it when he felt it. It was difficult to place at first, as he had not felt disturbances in the fabric of reality for quite some time, but it was there. Something was ripping. Something was being tainted. It weighed on him, made him shift uncomfortably. Something pure was being used for impurity. And it was something familiar.

He felt his Grace stirring beneath his vessel, sending him a warning. One of his brothers was in danger.

_Castiel._

[xxx]

The soldier gritted his teeth and tried again. _Center yourself. Pool your energy. Feel it take form. Then expand it to do your bidding. _Training seemed so long ago. By many's standards it had been; four thousand years seemed like such a long time to mortals. But it was not for angels. Time was supposed to be irrelevant to angels. Up until the rise of man, none of them had need to keep track of it. Their progress and evolution was faster than any other their Father had created. It required a certain shift in their mentality as well. But unlike humans, they were not allowed to fall victim to its effects. Their training was to be with them forever; any diminishment of skill would result in demotion. There was nothing more humiliating, except perhaps to be made mortal. Angels were not supposed to have a concept of humiliation either, but they all knew it. They all feared the same scorn Lucifer and his followers had received for feeling. So if they did experience it they smothered it until it disappeared.

_Let the tension build. Fuel the energy until it is all but spilling out of you. Contain it. Control it. Then manipulate it. _

He expelled the raw force of his Grace into the air around him. The air ignited in heat and light. Some of the dead leaves at his feet caught fire, quickly burning out. Scrambling for some sort of hold, he expanded his Grace until he tired and had to retract it again. In a few minutes he would try again. And if he failed he would recharge and try again. And again. And again. Until he achieved results. Or until his Grace went out. Whichever came first.

Lucifer was almost set ablaze by the explosion of Grace all around him when he entered the field Castiel had taken as his home for the past eleven months. Focused energy, powered by rage and sorrow, consumed the air, purifying all it touched. Wilting leaves and flowers sprang to life; anything dead caught flame and was destroyed. The pain giving each blast its intensity made his own Grace ache. The focus of each burst, however, was what concerned Lucifer the most.

When the energy receded, Castiel looked weak. Lucifer bounded to his side and caught him as his vessel's knees gave out. Castiel stiffened, but did not fight against him. He took the opportunity to focus solely on recharging instead of bothering to pick himself up. Lucifer supported him a moment more before leaning him back on his heels. "Castiel, stop. Don't."

"I am out of options."

"We agreed this wasn't one."

"I lied. Surely the Father of Lies could have detected dishonesty."

The Morningstar groaned internally. "I'm not the Father of Lies. The humans called me the Bringer of Enlightenment. Loki is the Father of Lies. And you know those polytheistic inbreds are not to even be held in the same regard as us. They are below even the Cupids."

"Do you insult our brothers?"

"I insult those who dare think they can share our Father's name."

"They came first."

"Wrong. They were worshipped first. Our Father made them. They just do not remember it. But he made the Leviathan first. Together they decided to lock them away, and Purgatory was made. Soon after Hell was as well. They decided that anything impure would be cast into either Hell or Purgatory, wherever they felt suited it best. Each of them had their own definition of what was impure though. But they agreed on one thing: the Leviathan had to go. Purgatory combines the strengths of God and all of the Pagans. You'll never open it from this end, Castiel. You'll kill yourself first."

"So be it," the younger huffed, "I will die knowing I did everything I could."

"You can live knowing that too," the Devil interjected, bewildered. Unless it was the will of God, angels were never meant to be martyrs. Self-preservation and the preservation of their brothers was ingrained as top priority; the conservation and protection of Heaven and its servants. In all of his years, he had never heard of a suicidal angel. _Too close. He's gotten too close to the humans. Now they've got him thinking like them. _

"Castiel," he could not hide the concern in his voice, "Purgatory is not meant to be accessed by anyone, especially not someone pure like you in fear of you accidentally getting trapped in a place created by evil energy. You will die before you open that portal. Not _might, _there is no chance of it. It will consume your Grace before it lets you open it. You're an angel. You're supposed to fear Purgatory more than Hell."

"Rather poor excuse for an angel," Castiel spat, "and I do fear Purgatory, but not for the reasons our Father intended. I fear what it is doing to Dean Winchester, or if a rescue is even possible at this point. But I will never forgive myself for this if I do not get him out. I cannot let him rot in there. I _cannot. _If I am an angel, then I am supposed to protect our Father's creations. Instead I got him sent to Purgatory. He should not be there. I should be."

Lucifer stared at him. "There it is."

"What."

"Do you think you belong in Purgatory, little brother, is that it?"

"I need to do penance. I deserve punishment."

"Wrong." Lucifer took his shoulders and refused to let go when he struggled. "Our Father has ingrained in all of you the idea that even turns of events that are beyond one's control still merit punishment. It was an _accident, _Castiel; you misjudged a distance, and as a result the Winchester was caught in the blast. You could not have prevented that. At one point our Father was capable of forgiveness. He has stopped doing that. That does not mean that you deserve to be sent to the land of eternal carnage for a mistake. Dean is a survivor and a fighter, with a strong soul. I don't think Purgatory could crush him even if the air itself wanted to."

The former soldier searched his elder's face. "It's my fault, Lucifer," he said, voice heavy with defeat.

"When you make a mistake, you do what you can to correct it if you can. And you learn from it. But you do not kill yourself trying to fix it."

"I don't know what to do, brother. Please tell me what to do."

The Morningstar's lips parted in shock. Castiel just referred to him as brother. And he was looking to him for guidance. Chest stirring, he pulled his younger brother into a tight embrace, resting his head against his shoulder. He felt hesitant arms wrap around him - loosely at first, then with an almost desperate grip.

"You remember him," The Morningstar finally responded, resting his chin on the younger's head, "You remember him and honor him. And if opportunity presents itself, you try to get him back. But you do not put yourself in harm's way to give him a chance. It's not selfishness, it's survival. You need to live on because otherwise he is gone for good."

He could feel the former soldier stifling the sobs that threatened to shatter his composure. Angels did not show emotion, had no necessity for venting. But their human vessels knew nothing else. After his banishment, Lucifer saw no reason to continue repressing emotional responses. He would show Castiel how to manage them.

Expanding his Grace to Castiel, Lucifer called for his wings to manifest and wrapped them around his younger brother. Appendages of the purest white encircled the falling angel, feathers tipped silver at the ends. Crimson tainted the axillars and bones beneath the powerful muscles, making them visible under the translucent coverlets. The sight of them after nearly four thousand years without their immense beauty was almost painful to Castiel. Exposure to Hell had impossibly managed to make Lucifer's wings more gorgeous than they had been previously. His chest ached as his own wings manifested without his permission again, Grace desperate to meld with that of the Morningstar. The archangel lifted his wings a bit to allow the smaller, coal black ones now sprouting beautifully from his brother's back to stretch and settle so he could encompass them as well.

They stood like that, unaware of the passing of time, or even its existence, until the air began to stir.

The universe was shifting. The two servants of Heaven could feel the disturbance in their feathers, stronger now that they were exposed, and getting increasingly more difficult to ignore. They picked their heads up simultaneously. The air felt wrong. Lucifer recognized the phenomenon, as it was one he had both witnessed and personally experienced more than once.

The walls of this plane of existence were ripping open, connecting two realms that were never meant to touch.

A blue hue settled over the forest around them, dim at first as the doorway rippled. Soon the night was illuminated by blue light, the ripples now violent thrashes tearing through the walls separating this world from another. Lucifer stared with his mouth agape. While the discomfort caused by the portal no longer bothered him, as he was so accustomed to a world of eternal damnation, he could tell it still unsettled the younger. Castiel's weight was shifting further from the doorway instinctually; he almost felt scared.

"Is that-"

"The human portal," Lucifer confirmed, "through there is Purgatory."

"I do not sense any hikers."

"It's a one-way street, remember? Don't want random nature-freaks accidentally stumbling into a carnal war-zone. It's responding to a human in Purgatory. He's close to the location of the door on that end."

"Dean," Castiel breathed.

Untangling himself from the archangel, Castiel bolted for the wall of light.

"Castiel!" Lucifer called sharply, voice shrill in alarm.

For the first time since his return, Castiel was capable of ignoring him. The portal responded negatively to him, as if trying to shove him away, but he pushed forward. The energy tore at him, burning and scratching and stabbing, but he ignored that too, and stepped through.

Aesthetically, Purgatory appeared no different to him than God's kingdom. But the air was different; tasted differently, settled differently, stirred differently, behaved differently, responded differently. It was wrong. Castiel could not think of any better description than that; just wrong. The colors were washed out, drained of any life, the entire place appearing devoid of any meaning besides death and re-death. Time wasn't just irrelevant, it did not exist. The walls of Purgatory were too strong for even time to pierce them. But it did not feel weightless or timeless because of it; quite the opposite. Castiel felt exhausted and heavy, his own eternity weighing on him even heavier in this consistent, changeless realm.

"Dean!" He shouted as loudly as he could manage. "Dean!" Scanning the lifelessly thriving forest, his eyes finally found a humanoid form stalking in the forest at the base of the cliff. Portal still trying to force him out, the angel screamed as he stepped forward into the carnal world and ran to direct his friend towards the portal before it closed.

"Dean!" he called again.

The man turned round to face him, weapon clutched securely and stance prepared and willing to attack. Dean Winchester's expression softened at the familiar sight of the vessel he associated with his angel friend, but did not dare relax his body. "Cas?" He called in disbelief.

"Dean, we have to go now," Cas halted in front of him, "I'm not sure how long the portal will remain active. You have to leave now."

"How the Hell did you even get here?" Dean demanded, fingers unclenching and then re-gripping his makeshift weapon.

"I will explain once you are free of this place but we must go," Cas pleaded.

Dean stared at him pensively, eyes cold and calculating. Castiel reminded himself that Purgatory had likely shattered his mental state. It was highly likely he thought Castiel a hallucination, the result of trickery from the world he had resided in for the past year. He prayed Dean would trust him long enough to follow him.

"Go where?" Dean inquired, not loosening his hold on his knife.

Castiel gestured behind him above the rocks. "There is a portal that leads through back to Earth. God made a door for humans to escape should one ever find himself trapped here. But I do not know how long it will last so please, go now!"

Dean tightened his jaw. "You first."

Not wasting any more time, Castiel immediately made for the doorway, checking over his shoulder only once to make sure that his friend was following. Dean climbed swiftly, accustomed now to a life of base survival instinct. Hesitating just for a moment, Dean finally stepped up in to the glowing portal with one foot, then the other. He held out his hand in offering to the angel, who remained in place.

"It's a human portal Dean, it's not made for angels," he explained. "Just go."

"I ain't leavin' without you man," Dean insisted.

"I can't leave. Purgatory is meant to keep powerful creatures in. Just go Dean. You don't belong here. You never did."

"Cas you're being ridiculous," Dean stepped forward. Fueled by his own self-loathing and guilt, Castiel roughly pushed him further through the portal. Dean fought against the pull of the doorway attempting to spit him out.

Bright light. Fire. Ice. Power and electricity. And then the human and the angel were suspended in space, being pulled towards the most crisp and secure air.

[xxx]

* * *

**Please leave any comments or constructive criticism! If I feel like there's an audience it definitely motivates me to work more on this instead of on any little drabbles that I do when I feel like I've got nothing worth sitting down and committing to. Next chapter already has a page and a half written since I couldn't wait on it before posting this one. Until next time everyone.**


End file.
